Of Light And Marrow
by bittch-boy
Summary: The other giggled quietly, breath curling into mist in the cold air. "I thought Kacchan wasn't afraid of anything." "One thing," Katsuki breathed, and Izuku looked over his shoulder, liquid emerald dotted with stars meeting deep ruby, "I'm afraid of one thing." (It's literally just the book Shadow and Bone by Leigh Barguo but with different characters)
1. Information

**A few things to know before we begin:**

The Grisha

Soldiers Of The Second Army

Masters Of The Small Science

Corporalki

(The Order Of The Living And Dead)

Heartrenders 

(Manipulation of blood, bone, and muscle)

Healers

(Manipulation of wounds and skin)

Etheralki

(The Order Of Summoners)

Squallers

(Manipulation of Air Currents and Storms)

Inferni

(Manipulation of Heat and Flame)

Tidemakers

(Manipulation of Liquid and Ice)

Materialki

(The Order Of Fabrikators)

Durasts

(Manipulation of Earth and Minerals)

Alkemi

(Manipulation of Chemicals and Reactions)

Slowly slides you another story after not updating my other one in like a week then yeets myself out the window*


	2. Before

**Before**

They called them malenchki, little ghosts, because they were the smallest and the youngest, and because they haunted the Duke's house like giggling phantoms, darting in and out of rooms, hiding in cupboards to eavesdrop, sneaking into the kitchen to steal the last of the summer peaches.

The boys had arrived within only weeks of each other, two more orphans of the border wars, dirty-faced refugees plucked from the rubble of distant towns and brought to the Duke's estate to learn to read and write, and to learn trade.

The older of the two—the first boy to come to the orphanage—was short and stocky, with eyes as fiery red as his temper, and a shock of blonde hair. He was known for getting into fights with the other children, some even three times his size, and always somehow managing to come out on top.

The younger boy arrived only two weeks later, tear tracks imprinted on his cheeks and a haunted look in his viridian green eyes. He was among the favorites of the children, if not only because of his manner of being unabashedly polite to everyone who talked to him, and helping out with the chores that no one else wanted to do.

He was different and he knew it.

Huddled in the kitchen cupboard, listening to the grown-ups gossip, he heard the Duke's housekeeper, a black-haired woman that the children had given the name of Midnight, say, "He's such a small child, pale and sour, like a glass of milk that's turned. No child should look like that. If I do say so myself, I might even call him ugly."

"And so skinny!" the cook replied, "Never finishes his supper."

Crouched beside the green-haired boy, the older one turned to him and whispered, "Why _don't_ you eat?"

His intelligent green eyes flickered from the crack of light that gave way to the kitchen to the boy beside him. "Other people need it more. Plus, I don't really like the taste."

"You're an idiot, it tastes fine to me."

"Yeah, but _you'll_ eat anything."

The older boy huffed, but turned his attention back to the grown-ups.

After a beat of silence he whispered, "I don't think you're ugly."

"Shhh!" The younger boy hissed, but hidden by the deep shadows of the cupboard, he smiled like the light of day.

In the summer, they endured long hours of chores followed by even longer hours of lessons in stiflingly hot classrooms.

When the heat was at its worst, they escaped into the woods to hunt for birds' nests or swim in the muddy little creek, or they would lie for hours in their meadow, watching the sun pass slowly overhead, speculating where they would build their dairy farm and whether they would have two white cows or three.

(The older boy always insisted that he would do all the heavy lifting on the farm, and the younger could attend to the children. The younger one wasn't sure how they could ask the storks to bring them children but he assumed the grown-ups would teach them how to write to the storks eventually.)

In the winter, the Duke left for his city house in Os Alta, and as the days grew shorter and colder, the teachers grew lax on their duties, preferring to sit by the fire and play cards or drink _kvas_.

Bored and trapped indoors, the older children doled out more frequent beatings, but they soon learned not to mess with the two boys, the older one in fear of his red eyed wrath, and the younger one in fear of the retaliation from the teachers and other children alike.

On the day the Grisha Examiners came, the two boys that had bonded against all odds were perched in the window seat of a dusty upstairs bedroom, hoping to catch a glance of the mail coach.

Instead, they saw a sleigh, a troika pulled by three white horses, pass through the white stone gates and onto the estate.

They watched its silent progress through the snow to the Duke's front door, and the older one shifted towards the smaller boy, putting a small arm around him protectively.

Three figures emerged in elegant fur hats and heavy wool _kefta_: one in crimson, one in darkest blue, and one in earthy tones of umber.

"Grisha," whispered the smaller in awe, his green eyes glinting.

"Quick!" said the older one, slipping off his shoes and grabbing his companion's arm.

In an instant they were running silently down the hall, slipping through the empty music room and darting behind a column in the gallery that overlooked the sitting room where Midnight liked to receive guests.

Midnight was already there, spilling out of her black dress, pouring tea from the samovar, her large key ring dangling from her waist.

"There are just two this year, then?" asked a woman's low voice.

They peered through the railing of the balcony to the room below, the younger eager to get his first look at a real life Grisha.

Two of the Grisha sat by the fire: a handsome man in blue and a woman in red robes with a haughty, refined air. The third, a young blond man, ambled about the room, stretching his legs.

"Yes," said Midnight, "Two boys, the youngest here by quite a bit. Both around eight, we think."

"You think?" asked the man in blue.

"When the parents are deceased…"

"We understand," said the woman, "We are, of course, great admirers of your institution. We only wish more of the nobility took interest in the common people."

"Our Duke is a… very great man." said Midnight.

Up in the balcony, the two boys nodded sagley at each other. Their benefactor, a man that the children called 'Thirteen' for how long it would take him to give them chocolate with all of them begging him, was a celebrated war hero and a friend to the people. When he had returned from the front lines, he converted his entire estate into an orphanage and a home for war widows. All the children looked up to him and claimed they wanted to be just like him when they grew older.

"And what are they like, these children?" asked to woman.

"The younger boy has a talent for drawing and a beautiful singing voice, though you would never know by looking at the scrawny thing. The older one spends most of his days either out in the forest 'hunting', or getting into fights with the older children."

"But what are they like?" repeated the woman.

Midnight raised a brow. "What are they like? They are like all children, undisciplined, tiny, malicious, far too attached to each other, they—"

"They are listening to our every word we say," interrupted the young man in umber.

The boys jumped in surprise, the older ones red eyes flashing as he growled possessively, putting an arm around the younger as if to shield him from the Grisha's sharp gaze.

Midnight's gaze landed on the two and she gave them a disapproving glare. "Izuku Midoriya! Katsuki Bakugou! Get down here this second!"

Katsuki snarled at her. "We don't have to do what you say, Hag!"

The Grisha shared amused expressions but Midnight just sighed, giving a pointed look at Izuku.

The young boy tugged gently on his companion's arm in response. "C'mon, Kacchan, we've already been caught, there's no point in hiding anymore," he whispered.

The older boy grunted, but still made his way down the narrow spiral staircase at the end of the gallery, Izuku tucked behind his back.

When they reached the bottom the woman in the red rose from her chair and gestured them forward. "Do you know who we are?" she asked. Her hair was steel gray, her faced lined with wrinkles, but she was still breathtakingly beautiful.

Katsuki turned his bloody orbs to her. "You're witches!" he proclaimed proudly.

The woman's face went from compassiant and understanding to enraged in a flash of a second. "Witches?" she snarled, whirling on Midnight, "Is that what you teach at this school? Superstition and lies?"

Midnight held her gaze. "We only teach them what they will understand."

The woman in red turned back to Katsuki and Izuku, her dark eyes blazing. "We are not witches. We are practitioners of the Small Science. We keep this country and this kingdom safe."

"As does the First Army," Midnight said quietly, an unmistakable edge in her voice.

The woman in red stiffened, but after a moment she conceded, "As does the King's Army."

The young man in umber smiled and knelt before the children. He said gently, "When the leaves change color, do you call it magic? What about when you cut you hand and it heals? And when you put a pot of water on the stove and it boils, is it magic then?"

Izuku shook his head, eyes wide and almost inhaling everything the man said.

But Katsuki frowned and said, "Any extra can boil water, old man."

Midnight snorted, and the woman in red exchanged an amused look with the man in blue.

"You're very right. Anyone can boil water, but not anyone can master the Small Science. That's why we've come to test you." She turned to Midnight. "Leave us now."

Midnight rose a single brow, but complied, walking gracefully to the door.

"Wait," whispered Izuku, and the woman in red leaned forward to listen, "Uh- What happens if we're Grisha? What happens to us?"

"If, by some chance, one of you is Grisha, then that lucky child will go to a special school where Grisha learn to use their talents," she said softly.

"You will have the finest clothes, the finest food, whatever your heart desires," added the man in umber, "Would you like that?"

"It is the greatest way you may serve your King," said Midnight, still hovering in the doorway.

"That is very true," said the woman in red, pleased and willing to make peace.

The two boys glanced at each other and, because the adults were not paying close attention, they did not see the younger boy reach out to clasp the older boy's hand, the look that passed between them.

The Duke would have recognized that look.

He had spent long years on the ravaged northern borders, where the villages were constantly under siege and the peasants fought their battles with little aid from the King or anyone else.

He had seen a woman, barefoot and unflinching in her doorway, face down a row of bayonets.

He knew the look of a man defending his home with nothing but a rock in each hand.


	3. Galaxies

**Galaxies **

The coach thundered past, wheels creaking and horses hooves pounding, and as it passed those two boys on the side of the road, forest green met sunset purple.

And for a split second the world was altered, time slowing to a crawling stop and the sounds becoming muted around Izuku, Katsuki's grasp on his shoulders distant.

That deep lilac searched his liquid emerald orbs, and he suddenly understood what the phrase eye-contact really meant, but as suddenly as it came, it was gone, and he was once again plunged into the world of the living like an ice bucket over his head.

He blinked, disoriented, as another coach rolled past, lacquered in red, at a much more leisurely pace.

"Thanks," he whispered to Katsuki as the blonde pulled him against his chest, his arms wrapped around Izuku's front.

The older boy only grunted, pulling him closer and hostially eyeing the third coach, lacquered in blue, rumbling by.

A girl leaned out the window then, wind whipping her soft, light brown hair and deep brown eyes searching the crowded before lingering on Katsuki, and Izuku had a fleeting thought of weather or not the ovals of blush on her cheeks were natural of a side effect of her summoning.

Her pink lips curled into a delicate smile, not showing her teeth, as she held his friends gaze, watching him over her shoulder until the coach was out of sight.

Izuku twisted his head back, looking as far as he could over his shoulder, catching the fading smirk Katsuki had playing over his lips. The same one he used when any attractive girls looked at him like that, or whistled his way when the two walked down the streets together.

A loud whoop broke his concentration, and both boys turned to see Tetsu lumbering towards them, wearing an almost comical expression of awe. "Did you see that?" he bellowed.

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, nicknamed just "Tetsu" for all of their sanity, was a boy about the same age as Izuku, with pale—almost silver—skin and, just as Katsuki had stated, painfully long eyelashes.

Behind him, Koda, a boy with rough skin and an extremely threatening frame for such a sweet being, hurried to catch up.

Both were trackers in Katsuki's unit and like the rest of the trackers, had a weird fascination with him and never strayed far from his side.

"Of course I saw it," Katsuki smirked cockily, his liquid ruby eyes flicking to Izuku's for a beat before back to Tetsu.

"She looked right at you!" Tetsu shouted, laughing almost giddily, "Oh boy, and that look in her eyes, saints, why do you always get the hot girls. And a Grisha no less!"

Katsuki snorted. "I get all the hot girls 'cause I'm hot as fuck, extra."

Izuku… had to agree.

Koda shifted nervously. "They say Grisha girls can put spells on you."

"That's just a myth, Koda, don't worry they can only control the Small Sciences," Izuku smiled at him, face seeming to light up the dust-filled road for a moment before settling back down.

If he had been paying attention, he would have felt Katsuki's fists clench ever so slightly, releasing just as quickly.

Tetsu's silver eyes flickered from Katsuki's down to his ivy green. "You know she'll be staying at the camp, right?"

Viridian searched moon light as Izuku tried to get a grasp on what the tracker was trying to tell him. To watch out? To not get hurt when Katsuki inevitably flirted with the beautiful girl? Nevertheless, he smiled sadly at Tetsu, trying to convey he knew and he was ready for the hurt.

After all, he would hurt all the world's worth if it meant he got to stay with Katsuki.

Koda inhaled sharply. "Like, close to our camp? Will they be able to see us? What if they kill us in our sleep?!"

Tetsu gently put his hand on Koda's arm, starting to lead the increasingly panicking boy away again. "C'mon bro, just breath, they aren't gonna kill us in our sleep, they're human as well, they won't hurt us. Just breath. Hey, we practiced this, remember? You got this, you got this."

As their voices faded and they got further away, Katsuki leaned down and whispered in Izuku's ear. "Bet you a kvas they're fucking."

"Kacchan!" the younger boy whined, tilting his head back to look the other in the face, "That's not nice!"

The blonde snorted. "Yeah, but it's true."

"You don't know that," Izuku pointed out, and Katsuki raised a brow, "Plus, how do you even bet a kvas?"

The older boy bared his teeth. "If I win, you have to drink the whole bottle, if you win I'll drink the whole bottle."

"We both know you could hold a three bottles of kvas and still strike down two birds with one arrow."

"Well…"

Izuku gasped in mock surprise. "You're trying to get me drunk, aren't you Kacchan?"

Katsuki twisted his face into an impression of Izuku's 'Sweet Smile' as he liked to call it. "Wouldn't dream of it, nerd."

The younger boy stuck his tongue out childishly and the older laughed, a deep sound from his throat and finally unwrapped the smaller from his grasp. "Whatever, Deku, I think you're late."

Izuku yelped, glancing at the sun before starting to lope down the hill, grass ripping at his feet and wind tosling his curls. "You're right, I gotta go! See you later Kacchan!"

The blonde stood there, upon that hill, for who knows how long after that. Just watching the greenette go, his smile fading from his face. "Yeah. See you later."

Izuku hurried down the hill and into Kribirsk, passing the last few stragglers in a flurry of muttering and knowing full well how late he was. He'd probably get yelled at the second he stepped in the Documents Tent.

Stupid Kacchan. Stupid Kacchan with his stupid good-lookingness and stupid laugh.

He rubbed his chest where Katsuki had wrapped his arms around, feeling his warmth even after he had walked away. He liked it when his friend touched him, even just platonic hugging of holding each other's hands, though they didn't really do that much anymore.

Was that creepy? That was creepy, wasn't it?

Think about something else, Izuku, you're getting dangerously close to yandere territory.

Kribirsk wasn't much to look at.

According to the Senior Cartographer, it had been a sleepy market town in the days before the Shadow Fold, little more than a dusty main square and an inn for weary travelers on the Vy. But now it had become a kind of ramshackle port city, growing up around a permanent military encampment and the dry-docks where the sandskriffs waited to take passengers through the darkness to West Ravka.

He passed taverns and pubs and what he was pretty sure were brothels meant to cater to the troops of the King's army, so he quickly avoided looking directly at those buildings. There were shops selling rifles and crossbows, lamps and torches, all the necessary equipment for a trek across the Fold.

The little church with its whitewashed walls and gleaming onion domes was in surprisingly good repair. Or maybe not so surprising, he considered. Anyone contemplating a trip across the Shadow Fold would be smart to stop and pray to their saints.

He found his way to where the surveyors were billeted, searching for the cot where Tsu had dropped off his pack, got out his sketchbook, and hurried over to the Documents Tent. To his relief, the Senior Cartographer was nowhere in sight, and he was able to slip in unseen.

Entering the white canvas tent, he felt himself somewhat relax for the first time since he'd caught sight of the Fold. The Documents Tent was essentially the same in every camp he'd seen, full of bright light and rows of drafting tables where artists and surveyors bent to their work. Ater the noise and jostle of the journey, there was something soothing about the crackle of paper, the smell of ink, and the soft scratching of nibs of brushes, the hushed silence of the tent a contest to the loud ruckus of the streets, and the golden light illuminating the beautiful sketches of lands and animals.

He pulled his sketchbook from his coat pocket and slid onto a workbench beside Tsu, who flicked her dark green eyes from where they were focused on her paper to study his face. "Where have you been?" she whispered almost worryingly.

Izuku laughed nervously under his breath. "Nearly getting trampled by the Darkling's coach I think?" he replied hesitantly, grabbing a clean piece of paper and flipping through his sketches to try to find a suitable one to copy. Both him and Tsu were junior cartographers' assistants and, as part of their training, had to submit two finished sketches or renderings at the end of every day.

She drew a sharp breath, back straightening and flickered her gaze around the tent. "Really? Are you okay? Did you actually see him?"

He thought back to when he had gazed inside the coach for a split second and time froze, leaving only him and that starlight purple, the liquid saffire melting through his barriers and bearing his soul to the world before it was gone just as quickly as it came. "He has… very purple eyes," he answered, viridian orbs focused on a spot on the indistinguishable horizon.

"Midoriya," Tsu said sharply, and Izuku darted his head up to meet her hard eyes, "It is not a good idea to fall for the Darkling."

He blinked at her. "Ah- why would I-"

"I'm just warning you," she said, turning back to her work as the Senior Cartographer entered the tent and came swooping down the aisle, observing their work as he passed.

"Izuku!" he exclaimed, patting the boy on the back. "I'm glad you could make it!"

Izuku winced. "Sorry about that…"

The Senior Cartographer laughed lightly. "It's okay! I just hope that's the second sketch you're starting."

"Ah… yup definitely…"

He nodded a little too excitedly, a bright smile on his face, and moved onto the next pair of cartographers.

As soon as he had gotten far away enough to not be able to eavesdrop, Tsu turned back to him and hissed "Tell me about the coaches. Why weren't they being more careful about the people in the road?"

Izuku but his lip, picking up his pen. "I'll… tell you later, I really need to work on my sketches."

She sighed slightly. "I normally wouldn't do this because I know you like to do things for yourself but…" she slid one of her sketches over onto his work table.

His eyes widened. "I can't possibly take this, you worked really hard today while I was goofing off!"

"Please," she snorted, "unlike you, I enjoy this job, and you were hardly 'goofing off'"

He smiled sheepishly. "I mean… I enjoy sketching and everything…"

"You just wish you could do something more useful," She finished for him.

He nodded.

She waved her hand at him, pushing the sketch even further into his work table. "I'm sure you will someday, but until then this is an extra and you could pass it off as yours."

"Thank you Asui."

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

And even as their conversation continued off to a lighter note, Izuku couldn't shake the feeling that Tsu meant something important when she told him not to fall for the Darkling.

After all, Tsu's intuition had always been scary good, but why would Izuku meet the Darkling at all, much less talk to him long enough to fall for him?

They chatted as they worked, moving from Izuku telling about the coaches and Grisha he had seen to talking about their future spouses and how they wanted to live.

By the time they were done with their work, dusk had fallen on the camp, the Fold only a hazy, starless patch of sky on the horizon. They handed in their work and walked to the mess tent, where they then stood in line for muddy stew ladled out my cooks (whom seemed rather touched when Izuku thanked them with the widest smile he could muster) and found seats with some of the other surveyors.

He passed the meal by exchanging gossip and jittery talk about tomorrow's crossing with Tsu and the others ("Oh my Saints, did you hear that Tetsu and Koda hooked up?" "What! No way, Koda's too innocent to hook up with anyone." "Nono, I'm serious! I heard them!" "Bullshit!"), and was eventually promoted into stuttering out a recollection of his encounter with the Darkling.

"He's not natural," said Monama, another assistant; his pretty grey eyes did little to distract from his personality of a squirrel with rabies, "None of them are! If I dare say, I would call them monsters!"

Tsu raised a brow. "Please spare us from your unsupported superstition, Monama."

"It was the Darkling who made the Shadow Fold to begin with, you moron!"

"That was hundreds of years ago," pointed out Izuku, who could not avoid a debate about Grisha for his life, "And that Darkling was completely mad!"

Monama sniffed. "This one is just as bad."

"Peasant," Tsu said, dismissing him with a wave. Monama opened his mouth, looking affronted, but quickly slammed it shut and turned back to gossip with his friends with a haughty flick of his head.

Tsu snickered and Izuku had to fight the smile that was working its way onto his face. It was rude to laugh at other people's conversations, but Monama's reactions were just the funniest.

Plus, he was more of a peasant than Monama, despite his superstitions. It was only by the Duke's charity that he could read and write, but by unspoken agreement, Katsuki and him avoided mentioning Keramzin.

As if on cue, a raucous burst of laughter from behind him lit the warm air of the mess tent, and Izuku looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Katsuki holding court at a rowdy table of trackers.

Tsu followed his gaze. "How did you two become friends anyway?"

Izuku hummed. "We grew up together."

She blinked at him. "...No offense, but you're nothing alike."

He thought back to the loneliness, the memories of parents they were meant to forget, the pleasure of escaping chores to play tag in their meadow. "I guess it's easy to have a lot in common when you're kids," he said softly, almost sadly.

Tsu snuck a glance back at Katsuki. "Things change faster than you think they will, don't they?"

Izuku rubbed his thumb over the scar on his palm. "They do," he whispered.

When they were finished, they cleared their plates and drifted out of the mess tent and into the cool night.

On the way back to the barracks, they took a detour so that they could walk by the Grisha camp (against Izuku's wishes, he felt like it was rather rude to observe them like animals but Tsu gave him one of her "Disapproving Older Sister" looks and he caved).

The Grisha pavilion was the size of a cathedral, covered in black silk, its blue, red, and amber pennants flying high above. Hidden somewhere behind it were the Darkling's tents, guarded by Corporalki Heartrenders and the Darkling's personal guard.

But even as they headed back to their quarters once Tsu had looked her fill, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling of being watched.

Once they got back, Tsu got quiet and started reverting her walk back to the smooth gaint while holding her hands in front of her and flexing her fingers that Izuku knew she had tried to train out of herself, and he knew they were both thinking about the next day's crossing.

And judging by the gloomy mood in the barracks, they weren't alone. Some people were already on their cots, sleeping—or trying to—while others huddled by lamplight, talking in low tones. A few even sat clutching their icons, praying to their Saints.

He bid goodnight to Tsu, finding his stuff where Katsuki had set it on a narrow cot next to his, and unfurled his bedroll, removing his boots and hanging up his coat.

He wriggled down into the fur-lined blankets and stared up at the roof, listening to the shuffling of people coming in and out and waited for sleep to take him.

He stayed like that way for a long time, until the lamplights casting golden shadows across his freckles had been extinguished and the sounds of muted conversations gave way to soft snores and the rustle of bodies.

Tomorrow, if everything went as planned, they would pass safely through the Fold to West Ravka, and he would get his first glimpse of the True Sea. There, Katsuki and the other trackers would hunt for red wolves and sea foxes and other coveted creatures that could only be found in the west. Izuku would stay with the cartographers in Os Kervo to finish his training and help draft whatever information they managed to glean on the scar of darkness across the land.

And then, of course, he'd have to cross the Fold again in order to return home. but it was hard to think that far.

He was still awake when he heard it. Tap tap. Pause. Tap. Then again: Tap tap. Pause. Tap.

In other words; "Get out here and talk to me you damn nerd." in Katsuki speak of the language he had made up as a child with too much free-time at Keramzin and had forced Izuku to learn so they could communicate "In secret like spies".

"What's going on?" whispered Tsu from the cot on his other side.

"Nothing, sorry for waking you," he whispered back, already slipping out of his bedroll and shoving his feet into his boots, deep green eyes already adjusted to the darkness of the setting sun.

He grabbed his coat and crept out of the barracks quietly as he could, not wanting to wake anyone else, they were all going to need their sleep if they planned on joining in the crossing.

The cold air stung his cheeks red as he opened the door and slipped off into the darkness night, and he buried his chin into his collar, wishing he'd taken the time to grab his scarf and maybe his gloves.

Katsuki was sitting on the rickety steps, his back to Izuku. Beyond him, Tetsu and Koda passed a bottle back and forth beneath the yellow lights of the footpath, Tetsu's skin looking truly silver in the light of the moon as he laughed at Kod's poor attempt to keep down a sip without wincing.

He hesitated by the door. "Kacchan did you… need something?"

Katsuki made eye contact over his shoulder, a smirk playing over his lips. "Only you, nerd," he said lowly, and Izuku's heart froze in his chest.

The older boy had always been attractive, especially compared to the sickly color of Izuku's skin, and the permanent bruises under his eyes, but here? Under the light of the silver moon and the twinkling stars? He looked so beautiful it hurt.

His blonde hair was almost white, with the same silvery sheen as the moonlight, and his crimson eyes deepened in the darkness of the sky, sparkling like rubies. His eyes looked softer, and for once his smile seemed less like a challenge and more like a call of hope.

Izuku's lips parted, drawing in a sharp breath, and the shiver that worked its way up his spine had nothing to do with the cold.

The flash of guilt that ran across Katsuki's face felt like another stab in the gut, until he said "I dragged you out while you were trying to sleep for once didn't I? Here, come 'ere, I'll warm you up."

Izuku moved dazedly towards him and the older boy gathered him up into his arms, setting the smaller in his lap and wrapping his coat around him.

The greenette in turn burrowed himself further into his friend's warmth. Katsuki wasn't normally this touchy, and Izuku was going to take every chance he could get to hug the larger boy, because who knew how long it would be before he was finding a wife and leaving the younger boy behind in his puddle of pain and self-pity.

So now he enjoyed this intimacy, counting down the days when the warmth that surrounded him would be gone and he would have nothing from his time as a child left.

"How'er you doin'?" Katsuki whispered in his ear as they gazed up at the stars.

"Good," he answered, studying the night sky for constellations as the silver tint reflected across his wide eyes, creating galaxies in his crystalline green, "Worried about the crossing."

The older sighed, burying his nose in the younger's neck and inhaling his scent of mossy forests and sparkling waterfalls. "Me too, and that's saying something."

The other giggled quietly, breath curling into mist in the cold air. "I thought Kacchan wasn't afraid of anything."

"One thing," Katsuki breathed, and Izuku looked over his shoulder, liquid emerald dotted with stars meeting deep ruby, "I'm afraid of one thing."

They stayed like that, just gazing into each other's eyes for a while, and Izuku would take it over trying to sleep over any day.


	4. Volcra

**Volcra **

Izuku had woken feeling the most rested he had in years.

Katsuki lay beside him, face peaceful for once, his chest rising and falling slowly and steadily, caramel scented breath brushing across Izuku's face and disturbing his morning curls.

The blonde had demanded they sleep together, _"Just this one night, nerd,"_ he had growled, words slurring a bit. Izuku had giggled. _"You're drunk, aren't you Kacchan?" _the blonde had only grunted and made some statement about how the fur-lined blankets weren't able to keep him warm correctly.

So they had stumbled inside the barracks, Izuku wincing at the screech the cots made when they pushed them together, and fell into bed together, Katsuki wrapping himself around Izuku like a child hugging his teddy bear while the smaller boy screamed internally, waiting for the Saints to drag him down to hell, falling asleep to steady rhythm of his childhood friend-turned crush's heartbeat.

Then Katsuki opened his eyes and huffed "Why're staring, nerd?" and Izuku squeaked, rolling out of the makeshift bed and onto the cold morning floor.

The blonde leaned over the edge, just staring at the younger boy, and raised an eyebrow. "You could have just said you were uncomfortable."

"Ah- no- no it's not that- I was just-"

The older rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, whatever nerd. Just get ready. We cross today."

And Izuku felt his heart sink in his chest. Katsuki was right, today they would cross the Shadow Fold.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur: breakfast with Tsu and strangely clingy Katsuki (resulting in a very flustered Izuku), a brief trip to the documents tents to pack additional inks and paper while Tsu gave him Disappointed-Older-Sister looks and lectured him about confessing his feelings to Katsuki, then the chaos of the drydocks, along with an entourage of people either thinking he was a little kid and asking if he was lost or just plain trampling over him. (Tsu may or may not have had to carry him on her shoulders at some point)

Now finally, finally, after all that dread and worrying, he stood in a small group with the rest of the surveyors, waiting their turn to board one of a wing of sandskiffs.

Behind them, Kribirsk was waking up and going about its business.

Ahead lay the strange, shifting darkness of the Fold.

Animals were too noisy and scared too easily scared for travel on the Unsea, so crossings were made on sandskiffs, shallow sled rigged with enormous sails that let them skate almost soundlessly over the dead gray sands that inhabited the shadowy land where plants and life could not grow.

The skiffs were loaded with grain, timber, and raw cotton, but on the trip back they would be stocked with sugar, rifles, and all manner of finished good sthat passed through the seaports of West Ravka.

Yet looking out at the skiff's deck, equipped with little more than a sail and rickety railing, all he could think was that it offered no place to hide.

At the mast of each sled, flanked by heavily armed soldiers, stood two Grisha Etherealki, the Order of Summoners, in their dark blue kefta, a sort of complicated jacket with long tails and a band around their waist. There was a silver embroidery at their cuffs, the hems of their robes indicating that they were Squallers, grisha who could raise or lower the pressure of the air and fill the skiffs' sail with wind that would carry them across the long miles of the Fold.

(And he was definitely not fanboying over the pretty Grisha and their fascinating abilities, no sir.)

Soldiers armed with rifles and overseen by a grim officer lined the railings, between them standing more Etherealki, but their blue robes bore the shining crimson cuffs that indicated they could raise fire.

At a signal from the skiff's captain, the Senior Cartographer herded Izuku, Tsu, and the rest of the assistants onto the skiff to join the other passengers. Then he took his place beside the Squallers at the mast, where he would help them navigate through the dark.

The man had a compass in his hand, but Izuku knew it would be of little use once they were in the Fold. The twisting darkness had a way of redirecting True North towards the center of the mass, and leading skiffs into writhing nests of volcra.

As they crowded on the deck, he caught a glimpse of Katsuki standing with the rest of the trackers on the other side of the skiff, armed with a rifle and blood red eyes glaring challengingly at the moving shadow, almost as if daring it to take anything away from him.

A row of archers stood behind the trackers, the quivers on their backs brisling with arrows tipped in bright Grisha steel.

Izuku fingered the hilt of the army-issue knife tucked in his belt, trying to find reassurance from the crushing weight on his chest in the small blade.

A shout rang out from the foreman on the docks, and crews of burly men on the ground began pushing the skiffs into the colorless sand that marked the furthest reaches of the Fold. They then stepped back hurriedly, as if that pale, dead sand would burn their feet.

Or maybe their souls.

Then it was Izuku's turn, and with a sudden jolt the skiff lurched forward, creaking against the earth as the dock-workers heaved.

He grabbed the railing to steady himself, heart beating wildly, and him and Tsu exchanged wide-eyed glances.

The Squallers lifted their arms, the sails billowed open with a loud snap, and their skiff surged forward into the Fold.

At first, it was like drifting through a thick cloud of smoke, but there was no heat, no smell of fire. Sounds seemed to dampen and the world became still. He watched the sandskiffs ahead of them slid into the darkness, fading from view, one after another.

He realized he could no longer see the prow of their skiff and then he could not see his own hand on the railing. Katsuki was only a patch of shadows some ways away, and the ball of dread in his lungs tripled in size.

He looked over his shoulder. The living world had disappeared, taking all light and energy with it.

Darkness fell around them, black, weightless, absolute.

And that's when he knew they were in the Fold.

It was like standing at the end of everything.

Izuku held tight to the railing, feeling the wood dig into his hand, grateful for its solidity, and for once in his life tried to stay present in the moment.

He focused on the feel of his toes in his boots, gripping the deck. On Tsu's breathing to his left.

He tried to think about the soldiers with their rifles and the blue-robed Grisha pyros. The hope in crossing the Fold was that they would pass through silently and unnoticed; no shot would sound, no fire would be summoned, yet their presence comforted him all the same.

He wasn't exactly sure how long they went that way, the skiffs floating forward, the only sound the gentle rasp of sand on the hulls.

"We're going to be okay," he whispered to himself, "We're going to be okay."

But it was then that he felt Tsu's big, warm hand seize his wrist and heard her whisper "Listen!" her voice shaking with terror.

For a moment, all he Izuku could hear was Tsu's quick, ragged breathing and the steady hiss of the skiff.

Then, somewhere out in the darkness, another sound, faint but relentless: the rhythmic flapping of wings.

He grabbed Tsu's arm with one hand and clutched the hilt of his knife in the other, rush of liquid energy shooting through his veins, heart pounding, and toxic green eyes straining to see something, anything, in the blackness.

He heard the sound of triggers being cocked, the tap of arrows being notched, and someone whispered, "Be ready."

They waited, listening to the sound of beating the air, growing louder as they drew nearer, like drums of an oncoming army, beating, beating, beating until they were so close Izuku thought he could feel a brush of wind on his cheek, a stir in his hair, the beats coming closer still.

"Burn!" The command rang out, followed by the crackle of flint striking stone and an explosive whoosh as rippling blooms of Grisha flame erupted from each of the skiffs.

He squinted in the sudden brightness, waiting for his vision to adjust, and in the firelight, he saw them

His mind dragged up a fact he had learned a few years back, when he had been studying the Fold, hoping to find a way to stop it.

Volcra were supposed to fly in small flocks, tens at most.

Not hundreds.

And yet here they were, hovering and swooping in the air around the skiff, humanoid, yet more terrifying than anything he could have ever possibly imagined.

They had meter long nails and dark grey, leathery wings, and matted black hair hanging into their faces with mouths of red-tipped fangs open in eternal screams.

Shots rang out. The arches let fly, and the shrieks of the volcra split the fire-lit air, shrill and high, like the shattering of glass, or nails against a chalkboard.

Then they dove.

The dove, almost perfectly in sync with each other, and Izuku had a fleeting thought about hive-brains before the world descended into chaos around him.

He heard the unholy wails and watched in silent horror as a soldier to his right was lifted from his feet and carried into the air, kicking and struggling, his screamed profanities quickly making way for muttered prayers to his Saints.

Tsu grabbed his arm from where it had loosened on her and yanked him down to crouch low beneath the railing, both of them clinging to each other and to the flimsy knives in their hands, trying to breath as the skiff shifted to a nightmarish plain, but Izuku was sure even he wouldn't be able to dream this up.

All around them, men shouted, people screamed either out of fear or pain, soldiers were locked in combat with the massive, writhing forms of winged beasts, and the unnatural darkness of the Fold was broken in fits and starts by bursts of golden Grisha flame.

Then a cry rent the air beside him, and he gasped as Tsu's arm was yanked from his.

And in a spurt of flame, he saw her clutching the railing with one hand.

In a flicker of light he saw her wide, terrified eyes.

In a bloom of energy he saw the monstrous thing that held her in its glistening grey arms, its wings beat the air as it lifted her from her feet, its long, thick claws sunk deep into her back, talons already wet with crimson blood, dripping, dripping, bleeding through the girl's shirt and running down in rivets onto her open arms.

"Hold on!" He cried desperately, "I've got you!"

He saw the exact moment when the calm overtook her body, her face relaxing to an almost sleepy state of boredom.

She smiled gently at him, wide, dark green eyes daring to share the secrets of the universe with him for a split second as she whispered "Stay alive, Izu-chan."

Then the flame vanished, and in the darkness he felt Tsu's fingers pulled from his.

"Asui!" He yelled hoarsely into the cold air.

There was no answer.

Another burst of flame.

No Tsu.

Tears blurred his vision. "Asui!" he yelled again.

She couldn't be gone.

"Tsuyu!"

She couldn't be gone.

At last, he got an answer, but instead of a familiar voice ringing out his name, it came in a gust of wings and wind as another volcra swept down on him.

He careened backward, barely avoiding its grasp, his knife held before him with trembling hands, even as his chest shook with sobs and hiccups.

The volcra lunged forward, the firelight glinting off its milky, sightless eyes, its gaping mouth crowded with rows of sharp, broken teeth.

He screamed as he saw a flash of powered from the corner of his eye, heard a rifle shot, and the volcra stumbled forward, yowling in rage and pain.

"Move!" It was Katsuki, rifle in hand, and face streaked with blood the same shining ruby as his eyes. He grabbed Izuku's arm, pulling the hysterical, shaking boy behind his back.

The volcra was still coming, clawing its way across the deck, one of its wings hanging at a broken, crooked angle.

Katsuki tried to reload in the firelight, but the volcra was too fast.

It rushed at them, claws slashing, its ragged talons tearing across Katsuki's chest, and he let out a scream of pain.

On instinct, or maybe it was something else, Izuku grabbed hold of the voldra's broken wing and imbedded his knife deep between its shoulders.

Its muscled flesh felt slimey beneath his hands, and it screeched and thrashed free of his grip, the boy falling backwards, hitting the deck on his back.

It lunged at him in another frenzy of rage, its huge jaws snapping and frothing.

Another shot rang out.

The volcra stumble and fell in a grotesque heap, black blood pouring in a waterfall from its open mouth.

In the dim light, Izuku saw Katsuki lower his rifle, shirt torn and darkened with crimson blood.

The rifle slid from his fingers as he swayed and fell to his knees, collapsing onto the deck.

"Kacchan!" Izuku was at his side in an instant, his hands pressing down on the oldered boy's chest in a desperate attempt to stop the blood running in rivers from the gaping wound. "Don- don't leave me Kacchan! Not you too!" he sobbed, crystalline tears streaming down his cheeks.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder.

All around them, he heard rapid rifle fire, people weeping… and the sound of sounthing obscene feeding in darkness.

The flames of the Grisha were growing weaker, more sporadic, and he wondered how such powerful beings could be taken down

He realized that the skiff had stopped moving.

This was it.

He bent low over Katsuki, trying his best to keep pressure to his wound, because even in his hour of death, the older boy's life came before his.

He wondered vaughly where Tetsu and Koda were.

He remembered again that Tsu was gone.

Katsuki' breath was labored when his blood-rose red eyes, half lidded in pain met Izuku's viridian orbs and he rasped "I couldn't protect you."

Izuku choked a sob. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"They're coming," Katsuki replied horsley. "I promised I would protect you."

The younger boy looked up and saw, in the feeble, fading glowo of Grisha fire, two more volcra swooping down upon them.

He huddled over the older, shielding his body with his own.

"What do you think you're doing, nerd?" he growled, voice fading in and out of slurred speech.

"Offering the least of what I can," Izuku answered, closing his eyes against the fetid stench of volcra, feeling the air gusting from their wings.

He pressed his forehead against Katsuki's and whispered, "I guess this is where it ends, huh?"

The blonde smiled then, eyes half-lidded in blood loss, an actual, genuine smile, lips curling up and over his teeth. "Meet you in the meadow," he whispered back.

And something in Izuku gave way, at seeing his childhood friend like that, seeing him give up.

It gave way in his hopelessness, in his fury, in his certainty of death.

He felt Katsuki's blood beneath his palms, saw the acceptance on his face.

The volcra screeched in triumph as it sank its talons into his shoulder, pain shooting once more through his body.

And the world went white.

He closed his eyes as a sudden, piercing flood of light exploded across his vision.

It seemed to fill his head, blinding him.

Drowning him.

From somewhere above, he heard the shrill screams of volcra, and the claws in his back lost their grip.

He felt the thud as he fell forward, head connecting with the deck beside his childhood friend.

The boy that might once have been his lover, in a different life.

And then he felt no more.


	5. Awake

**Awake**

Izuku woke with a start.

He could feel the rush of air on his creamy skin, and he cracked open his liquid emerald eyes to what looked like dark clouds of smoke.

He was on his back, the deck of the skiff hard against his spine, and it took him only a moment to realize that the clouds were getting thinner, giving way to dark wisps of shadows, and through the thin film of darkness, a bright, vermilion autumn sun.

Crushing relief flowed through him, and in an instant he closed his bleary eyes, breathing out a steady sigh.

They were on their way out of the Fold.

Somehow, they had made it through.

Or at least, that was what he thought for a while two minutes before memories of the Volcra attack flooded back to him in a frightened rush.

Kacchan.

Asui.

Where were Koda and Tetsu?

His hands clenched and he tried to sit up, even as ragged bolts of pain shot through his shoulders.

He bit his cheek and forced himself to sitting.

He had been through worse than this.

The boy with green hair who had watched his parents burn to death in front of him was much stronger than they would like to think.

And yet as his eyes focused, he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

His viridian eyes shot up to meet the dark onyx of the soldier holding the rifle. "S- Stay where you are, kid," he commanded, though he looked only about a few your older than Izuku.

Izuku froze. "Uh- I- Okay? Is- Is there a reason as to why…" he trailed off, gesturing at the gun pointed at him, "You're- You feel the need to…?"

The soldier's eyes widened at the boy's sugary, pain-ridden voice, and he turned over his shoulder to call a strangled "He's awake!" and they were quickly joined by two more armed soldiers, the captain of the skiff, and red robed Corporalnik.

With a thurm of panic, Izuku noticed the cuffs of her red kefta were embroidered in intricate black stitching. What did a Heartrender what with him?

He looked around mutely, a weird sense of calm relaxing his shoulders and fogging his vision.

A Squallar stood by the mast, arms raised, driving them forward by a strong wind, a single soldier at his side. The wooden deck was slicked with ruby blood in patches in puddles, and from far away he felt his stomach flip.

"Tsuyu?"

A Corporalki Healer was tending to the wounded.

"Meet you in the meadow."

There were soldiers and Grisha standing by the railings, bloodied, singed, and considerably fewer in number than when they had set out. They were all watching him warily.

With a growing fear, Izuku realized that the soldiers and Corporalnik were not worried for him, they were guarding him.

Like a prisoner.

Like someone to be feared.

"Tsuyu Asui. Katsuki Bakugou. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu. Koji Koda. Where are they?" he whispered, throat hoarse as his eyes watered and a metallic taste coated his tongue.

No one said anything, only staring at him with a mix of confusion, fear, and for some reason, what looked like awe.

"Please," he pleaded, begged, not caring what they thought of him, "Are they safe?"

There was a jolt as skiff came aground. The captain gestured at Izuku with his rifle. "Up."

And that was it. That was all he said.

His acidic eyes flashed, and he debated simply refusing to do anything until they had told him about his friends, but a glance at the Heartrender, a living killing machine, had him rolling to his feet, trying not to wince as much as possible. He stumbled as he skiff started moving again, heaved forward by the drydock workers on land, and he instinctively reached out the steady himself, hand brushing the arm of a soldier.

The soldier shrank away from hima s if burned, leaving the boy to find his own footing, thoughts and head reeling.

The skiff halted again.

"Move," the captain commanded.

The soldiers lead Izuku at riflepoint from the skiff. He passed the other survivors, acutely aware of their curious and frightened stares, and caught of the Senior Cartographer being comforted by another Assistant Cartographer.

As they stepped onto the drydock, his already panicked eyes widened at the sight of Kribirsk spread out across the horizon.

He shuddered. They hadn't even made it across the Fold.

Yet it was still better to be marching through camp with a rifle at his back than to be in the twisting darkness of the Unsea.

As the soldiers marched him up the main road, people turned from their work to gawk. Izuku's mind was still whirling, searching for answers and finding nothing. What had happened in the Fold? Had he done something against military regulations? The wounds in shoulder throbbed, strikes of red-hot pain racking through him with every other step. The last thing he remembered was the pain of the volcra's shearing claws piercing his back, and then a searing burst of light.

How had they survived?

The thoughts were driven out of his head, scattering like doves in the fog, as they approached the Officer's Tent. the captain called the guards to a halt and stepped toward the entrance.

The Corporalnik reached out a hand to stop him. "This is a waste of time. We should proceed immediately to—"

"Take your hands off me, bloodletter," the captain snapped and shook his arm free.

For a moment, the Corporalnik stared at the man, her eyes dangerous, and Izuku had a flash of oh my saints she's going to kill him right here and now, before she smiled coldly ad bowed. "Da, kapitan."

Izuku saw the flash of shuddering fear across the man's face, but all he could think was at least she didn't kill him.

The captain disappear inside the tent. They waited. Izuku glanced nervously at the Corporalnik, who had apparently forgotten her feud with the captain and was scrutinizing him once again. She was young, probably around his age, but hadn't stopped her from confronting a superior officer. Why would it? She could kill the captain where he stood without even raising a weapon

Grisha truly were people to awed and feared.

Preferably, from a ways away.

And yet she turned to him, lightly tanned face with a slight green tint and asked "Are you okay?"

He blinked at her. No one has asked him that yet, and to be asked by a Grisha no less was… wow.

This still all felt like a dream.

"Yeah," he answered quietly, realizing he was staring, "You?"

She smiled painfully, ad he noticed she was shaking and ever so small amount. "It's still a little new to me. Y'know to have my first trip be attacked by volcra. I mean, I'd heard stories but…"

He found himself nodding. She was just like him, a normal human being, she had been through pain and seen all the destruction, unable to do anything.

She had just been born with an ability that allowed her to do things that did not entirely abide by natural law.

"I'm Izuku," he offered with an understanding smile. It was the least he could do.

She grinned again, this time genuinely. "Call me Tōru."

The tent flap opened, and Izuku was horrified to see the captain emerge followed by a stern Colonel Hakamada. What had he possibly done that would require the involvement of a senior officer?

He felt Tōru wince beside him.

The colonel peered at the boy, his eyes narrowed over the rough scarf he insisted on wearing all the time, even in the summer. "What are you?"

"As- Assistant Cartographer Izuku Midoriya. Royal- Royal Corps Surveyors—"

He cut Izuku off. "What are you?"

Tōru turned to him as well, as if waiting for the answer to such a simple question. "I… I'm a mapmaker, sir."

Hakamada simply looked amused. He pulled one of the soldiers aside and muttered something to him that sent the soldier sprint back toward the drydocks. "Well? What are you waiting for? Let's go," he said, already striding off, styled, blond hair bouncing at his quick steps.

"We were waiting for you, old man," muttered under her breath, and Izuku had to stifle a crazed giggle.

Why was he giggling? Where were his friends?

He felt the jab of a rifle barrel in his back, spiking his pain again, and marched forward. Izuku had a very bad feeling about where he was being taken. It can't be, he thought desperately, grabbing for some sort of explanation of what had occurred over the past twelve hours, it makes no sense.

But as the huge black tent loomed larger and larger before them, there was no doubt about where they were headed.

The entrance to the Grisha tent was guarded by more Corporalki Heartrenders and charcoal-clad oprichniki, the elite soldiers who made up the Darkling's personal guard. The oprichniki weren't Grisha, but they were just as dangerous and frightening.

Tōru conferred with the guards at the front of the tent, before shooting him a reassuring look and disappearing inside with Colonel Hakamada. He waited, heart racing, aware of the whispers and stares behind him, anxiety rising and thoughts picking up like a tornado on a windy day .

High above, four flags fluttered in the breeze, blue, red, amber, and above all of them the deepest shade of purple, so close to black. Just last night, Katsuki and his friends had been laughing about trying to get into this tent, wondering what they might find inside. Now, it seemed Izuku would be the one to find out.

Where are they? What happened to Tsuyu? Are they alright? The thought kept returning to him, the only clear ones that he could form.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tōru returned, gently grabbing his hand and whispering a quick "I'll be okay, trust me," before nodding at the captain and tugging him inside.

For a moment, all his fear disappeared, eclipsed by the beauty that surrounded him. The tent's inner walls were draped with cascades of bronze silk that caught the glimmering candlelight from the chandeliers sparkling high above. The floors were covered in rich rugs and furs. Along the walls, shimmering silken partitions separate compartments where Grisha clustered in their bright kefta. Some stood talking, others lounged on cushions drinking tea. Two were bent over a game of chess. From somewhere, he heard the strings of a balalaika being plucked. The Duke's estate had been beautiful, but there was a melancholy beauty of dusty rooms and peeling paint, the echo of something that had once been grand.

The Grisha tent was like nothing he had ever seen before, a place alive with power and wealth.

The soldiers marched him down the long carpeted aisle at the end of which he could see a black pavilion on a raised dais.

A ripple of curiosity spread through the tent as they passed, Grisha stopped their conversations to gape at him; a few even rose to get a better look at the small, ordinary, freckle-covered boy.

By the time they reached the dais, the room was all but silent, and he felt sure that everyone must have been able to hear his hammering heart.

In front of the black pavilion, a few richly attired ministers wearing the King's double eagle and a group of Corporalki clustered around a long spread with maps. At the head of the table was an ornately carved, high-backed chair of blackest ebony, and upon it lounged a figure in a black kefta, his chin resting on one bored hand.

Izuku gulped. Only one Grisha wore black, was permitted to wear black, and Colonel Hakamada was standing to him, speaking in tones far too low for the greenette to hear.

The Darkling's neon purple eyes rose to meet his liquid emerald, and two worlds collided faster than the collapse of a star.


	6. Darkling

**The Darkling**

Izuku felt his breath stop all together.

He stared, torn between fear and fascination at the beautiful man before him.

The Darkling… looked far too young. He had been commanding Grisha since long before Izuku was even born and yet he looked no more than a few years older than him. He had a surprisingly average build, though a bit taller than what would be considered average for how old he looked. His messy yet put together, lilac hair shifted as he tilted his head, glimmering amethyst eyes racking up and down the greenette's figure, and Izuku felt a shiver work it's way up his spine.

Izuku knew that the more powerful Grisha were said to live long lives, and that made sense once you consider how the movement of anima in the third dimension.

And the Darkling was the most powerful of all.

With a twig of fear, he remembered Monama's words: "He's not natural. None of them are."

Absurd. Why was he even thinking about this? He knew the science, he knew how it all worked, it was the one thing that comforted him in the orphanage when Katsuki had to be away doing something.

Where was Katsuki? This entire time he had been following orders, too scared to do anything but, and yet they still hadn't told him one thing about his friends or what they were doing in the Grisha Tent, for saint's sake.

Colonel Hakamada's smooth voice cut him out of yet another internal spiral. "Bring them," he said, genturing to someone behind Izuku.

The greenette turned the best he could, hair bobbing and wincing slightly at the sudden movement.

More soldiers were leading a battered, bewildered group of people into the tent and up the aisle. Among them, Izuku spotted the soldier who had been beside him when the volcra attacked and the Senior Cartographer, his usually tidy coat torn and dirty, his face frightened.

His destress grew as he realized that they were survivors from the sandskiff.

They had been brought before the Darkling as witnesses, to what, he didn't know, but if it needed the validation of the Darkling, it couldn't be good.

What had happened on the Fold? What did they… What did they think he had done?

His breath caught again as he recognized the trackers in the group. He saw Tetsu, bright silver hair like a beacon amongst all the scorch marks and bloodstains, and leaning against him, bandages peeking out from his shirt was an angry, exhausted-looking Katsuki.

No Koda.

No Tsu.

Izuku's legs felt weak, and he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob.

Where were they?

He wanted to run to Katsuki and Tetsu, throw his arms around both and never let go. He wanted to ask them were Tsu and Koda were. He wanted to just get out of here. They had just survived a volcra attack, they should be resting, not standing here in front of hundreds of people for whatever this was.

He searched the crowd, failing to find either of his missing friends. What if they were-

No. No, he couldn't finish that thought, that would mean they were gone, they would be not there, not there to laugh and joke and correct him when he called them by their wrong names.

He snuck another glance at the dais and found the Darkling staring directly at him, those bright purple eyes drilling directly into Izuku's soul. He was still listening to Colonel Hakamada, his posture just as relaxed as before, but his gaze was focused, intent, and Izuku couldn't help but feel like there was a surprisingly soft message behind those lilac orbs, a softly called, "Calm down, it'll be alright."

Then the Darkling turned back to the colonel and he realized he had been sucked out of reality again.

When the bedraggled group of survivors reached the base of the dais, Colonel Hakamada ordered, "Kapitan, report."

The captain stood at attention and said in an expressionless voice: "Approximately thirty minutes into the crossing, we were set upon by a large flock of volcra. We were pinned down and sustaining heavy casualties. I was fighting on the starboard side of the skiff. At that point, I saw…" The soldier hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded less sure, "I don't know exactly what I saw. A blaze of light. Bright as noon, brighter. Like staring into the sun."

The crowd erupted in murmurs. The survivors from the skiff were nodding, and izuku found himself just confused. What light? Maybe it had happened after he passed out?

The soldier snapped back to attention and continued, "The volcra scattered and the light disappeared. I ordered us back to the drydock immediately."

The Darkling paused, seeming to study him before asking, "And the boy?" in such a deep, smooth yet velvety tone that Izuku felt a shiver run up his spine.

He was so distracted that it took about two seconds before he registered that the Darkling was talking about him, and a cold stab of fear shot through his blood.

"I didn't see the boy, moi soverenyi."

The Darkling raised a purple eyebrow, turning to the other survivors. "Who actually saw what happened?"

The survivors broke into muttered discussion with one another. Then slowly, timidly, the Senior Cartographer stepped forward, and Izuku felt a keen twig of hurt for him. He had never seen him so disheveled. His slightly curly black hair stoof at all angles on his head; his fingers plucked nervously at his ruined coat, and even from a ways away, Izuku could see that his hands were shaking.

"Tell us what you saw," coxed Hakamada.

The Cartographer licked his lips, eyes darting to the side. "We… we were under attack," he said tremulously, "There was fighting all around. Such noise. So much blood… One of the girls, Asui, was taken. It was terrible, terrible." His hands fluttered like two startled birds, but Izuku's heart stopped at those words.

"One of the girls, Asui, was taken."

The Cartographer continued, but Izuku felt miles away, only vaguely registering what was happening.

The Cartographer cleared his throat. "They were everywhere. I saw one go after her—"

"Who?" asked Hakamada.

"Izuku… Izuku Midoriya, one of my assistants."

The greenette jolted slightly at hearing his name, but it still felt as if he was swimming in fog.

"Go on," Hakamada pressed.

"I saw one go after him and the tracker," the Cartographer said, gesturing to Katsuki, and Izuku snapped back to reality, eyes burning as tears swelled, threatening to spill over.

"And- And where were y- you?" he asked shakily, the question out of his mouth before he could even consider the consequences, "Do you- Do you mean to say Asu- Tsuyu is gone because- because you couldn't—" he cut off, sugary sobs lighting the air as people turned to face him.

"There was nothing I could do," he pleaded, his hands spread wide. "They were everywhere. It was chaos!"

"You- you still could have helped!" Izuku choked out, crystal tear finally spilling out, over freckled cheeks and dripping down his frail neck, "Tsuyu- she's- she's gone, she's dead because of me! You could have- you could have-"

The room went silent, simply staring at the green-haired boy, being caged in by soldiers, wishing they could help in any way possible. Finally, after a few more seconds of only the boy's detached sobs racking their hearts, just as the greenette started to slip, a young Corporalnik burst out of the crowd, moving to support him.

A call of, "Sero, No!" quickly followed him, but Sero ignored it, catching Izuku and propping him up against his shoulder.

"You alright?" he whispered gently, hugging the small boy to him.

Izuku sniffled, registering that he was crying against a Grisha in front of everyone, but at this point, he didn't particularly care. "Yeah," he whimpered, "It's just…"

Sero only held him closer. "I know buddy, I know."

They could practically hear Hakamada facepalm from across the room. "Hanta Sero! Let go of Midoriya! Cartographer, tell us what you saw!"

Hanta simply glared at him over Izuku's shoulder, and had someone been watching closely, they would have been able to see the Darkling's lips twitch slightly, almost as if trying to wrain in a smile.

A flitter of smiles graced the room, but it quickly hushed when the Cartographer licked his lips and started again. "The tracker went down. The boy was beside him. That thing, the volcra, was coming at them. I saw it on top of him and then… he just… lit up."

The Grisha erupted in exclamations of disbelief and derision, even Sero made a small hum in surprise. A few of them laughed hysterically, and had Izuku's chest not felt so heavy, he would have joined them. Someone "lighting up"? Him "lighting up"?

"I saw it!" the cartographer shouted over the din, "Light came out of him!"

Some of the Grisha were open jeering now, but others were yelling, "Let him speak!" the noise loud and jarring in Izuku's already clouded head.

Hanta let the small boy bury his face further into his chest.

The Cartographer looked desperately to his fellow survivors for support, and to the greenette's surprise, he could hear scattered agreement and murmurs of validation.

"This is absurd!" A voice yelled from the crowd, and the beautiful girl in blue from the coach stood up, almond eyes flashing, "What are you suggesting, old man? That we've actually found ourselves a Sun Summoner?"

Despite her tone, Izuku was really just glad someone agreed with him.

"I'm not suggesting anything," the man protested, "I'm only telling what I saw!"

"It's not impossible," said a heavyset Grisha. He wore the amber kefta of a Materialnik, a member of the Order of Fabirkators. "There are stories—"

"Don't be ridiculous," the girl laughed, her voice thick with scorn, "The man's had his wits rattled by the volcra!"

The crowd erupted with argument, yelling and shouting at each other in harsh tones, and Izuku really just wanted to disappear, shrink down into himself and sleep for once.

He sighed against Hanta and the boy smiled at him in understanding. Grisha could be rather tiring, and after all this small boy had gone through, this had to be a tipping point.

"Quiet." The Darkling barely seemed to raise his voice, but the command sliced through the crowd and silence fell like a sunset over dawn.

Izuku suppressed a shiver. He hated to judge people without knowing them, but a story that Monama had once told came to his mind. That the Darkling had once ordered a Corporalki Healer to seal a traitor's mouth shut permanently. The man's lips had been graphed together and he had starved to death.

The Darkling wasn't exactly known for mercy.

"Tracker," The Darkling said softly, "what did you see?"

As one, the crowd turned to Katsuki, who raised his head in defiance and stared the Darkling right in the eyes. "Nothing, I didn't see anything."

"The boy was right beside you."

Katsuki raised a brow, and Izuku almost thought he was going to snark at the Darkling, which was not a good idea, Kacchan, what the FUCK, but the blond simply nodded.

"You must have seen something," and Izuku's mind might have been tricking him in his fog of panic (oh saints, Tsuyu was gone), but the Darkling had an almost desperate tone to his voice. Like to needed to know.

Katsuki glanced at Izuku, ruby red meeting those sparkling pond eyes, and the greenette felt that flash of pain in his bloody orbs. Izuku had never seen his friend this way, so pale and bruised and tired. And still, the small boy could see that relentless rebellion in Katsuki's ever being,he still held himself upright, tall and strong, and even as he turned his head and teartracks came to light, he kept up who he was.

"Just… Tell us what you remember, tracker," commanded Hakamada.

Katsuki shrugged slightly, wincing from the obvious pain in his wounds and started, "I was on my back on the deck. De- Izuku was next to me. I saw that fucking volcra start diving and I knew the bastard was coming for us. I said something and—"

"What did you say?" The Darkling's cool voice cut through the room.

"I don't remember," Katsuki deadpanned, obviously implying that he did know, he just didn't want to say it. A beat of… something… exchanged between the Grisha and human, and Izuku shifted nervously at the sudden re-direction of conversation.

The two boys broke eye contact and Katsuki continued as if nothing had happened, the Darkling now leaning forward in his seat, seemingly interested now. "I smelled the little bitch, saw it swooping down on us. Izuku screamed and then I couldn't see anything. The world was just… shining."

"So you didn't see where the light was coming from?" Hakamada asked.

"Izuku isn't… he couldn't…" Katsuki shook his head as if trying to dislodge the thought. "We're from the same… village." Izuku noticed that pause. An orphan's pause, and he wanted to reach out and comfort the blond, to just offer a hug like he would when the boy caught nightmares. "If he could do anything like that, I would sure as hell know."

The Darkling stared at Katsuki again for a long moment, then at Izuku, those wine purple eyes calculating.

"We all have our secrets," he said, voice low.

Katuki opened his mouth as if to say more, but the Darkling put up a hand to silence him. Anger flashed across the blond's face, and he bared his teeth in a snarl, but he wisely didn't protest any more.

The Darkling rose from his chair. He gestured and the soldiers surrounding Izuku stepped back, leaving Izuku alone to face the tall boy.

Well, almost alone.

Over Izuku's shoulder, the Darkling made eye contact with Hanta, and a silent conversation seemed to occur before Sero nodded, whispering a quick "It'll all be alright, trust be bud," in the small boy's ear before hopping off the dais and into the crowd once again.

The Darkling continued to step down the steps, coming to a halt in front of Izuku and the green-eyed boy had to fight the urge to not shrink back under the Grisha's heavy gaze.

He also wasn't expecting the mulberry-haired boy to be so tall, what the saints where they feeding him??

"Now, what do you say, Izuku Midoriya?" he asked, husky voice low enough for only the closest people to hear.

Izuku gulped. So this was what Tsuyu meant by "Don't fall for the Darkling,"


	7. Summoner

**Sun Summoner**

Izuku swallowed. His throat was dry and his heart careened from beat to beat, but he knew he had to speak, he had to make the Darkling understand he hadn't done anything, that he had no part in any of this.

"There's been some kind of mistake," he said hoarsely, sneaking a glance at Katsuki before staring down at the ground just above the Darkling's black boots. "I didn't do anything. I don't know how we survived."

The Darkling seemed to consider this. Then, he crossed his arms, cocked his head of messy lilac hair to one side. "Well," he said, his cool voice bemused, "I like to think that I know everything that happens in Ravka, and if I had a Sun Summoner living in my own country, I'd be aware of it." Soft murmurs rose from the crowd, winding around the thick atmosphere in the tent, but the Darkling ignored them, amethyst eyes studying the small boy closely, "But something powerful stopped the volcra and saved the King's skiffs."

There was a silence, and Izuku found his gaze rising from the floor to the Darkling's face, trying to solve the puzzle.

Something had stopped the volcra, there was no other way they would have survived, but why did everyone think he was the one that did it?

"I don't…" he frowned in frustration. He didn't remember anything. Couldn't. The most he could summon was the darkness. The pain. The rage, that helpless feeling of Katsuki bleeding out beneath his hands.

For a second, his liquid emerald met that lotus purple, and the air between them seemed to snap with electricity.

"Hold out your arm," the Darkling said.

Izuku blinked, and the moment was lost. "What?"

The man sighed, running his tongue over his lips (not that Izuku noticed, no absolutely not), and amended, "We've wasted enough time. Hold out your arm."

It wasn't an answer but he would take it.

Izuku held out his left arm, noticing that his hand was shaking. Why was that happening?

Oh, right! Because he had just watched his friend die right before his eyes!

Once again, the Darkling's voice yanked him out from his spiral of thoughts. "Push up your sleeve."

"I didn't do anything, I swear," he blurted, quickly bringing his right hand to cover his mouth. Shit. It was not a good idea to back-talk the Darkling.

But the Grisha only raised an eyebrow, showing no signs of being upset at his words.

Izuku pushed up his sleeve.

The Darkling nodded, then spread his arm and a mix of curiosity and terror washed through the sage-haired boy as the Grisha's palms filled with something black that pooled and curled through the air like ink in water.

"Now," he said in an almost conversational tone, as if they were sitting together drinking tea, as if Izuku was not standing before him shaking, "let's see what you can do."

He brought his hands together and there was a sound like a thunderclap. Izuku gasped as undulating darkness spread from the Darkling's clasped hands, spilling in a black wave over the crowd.

Izuku was blind. The room was gone. Everything was gone.

It was…

It was terrifying, almost as if not for the ground, solid beneath his boots, or the steady breathing of the Darkling beside him, he wasn't even there. Just another particle of dust floating through this empty universe.

It was fascinating, how did it work? What were the limits? Did he create shadows or only harness them? Was there a way to mute it? What was his range of co—

He flinched when he felt the Darkling's fingers inclose his bare wrist, but he didn't cry out.

The Grisha's hands were cold, but suddenly he felt his fear recede. The feeling of terror was still there, cringing like an animal inside him, but it had been pushed aside by something calm and sure and powerful, something vaguely familiar.

He felt the call ring through him, and to his surprise, something in him rose up to answer. He pushed it away, pushed it down as far as he could. Somehow, he knew that if that thing got free, it would destroy him.

"Nothing there?" the darkling murmerd, and Izuku realized how very close they were in the dark.

"Uh, yep. Nothing here! An absolutely normal human being!" Izuku squeaked, and to his relief, that struggling thing inside him seemed to lie back down, leaving the Darkling's call unanswered.

The Griasha chuckled slightly, the surprisingly warm sound making Izuku relax a bit, before his whispered "I doubt it," made the boy these again.

The boy felt something cold press against the inside of his forearm, and at the same moment he realized it was a knife, the blade stung into his skin.

Pain and fear shit through him like a bullet, and he cried out in that darkened room. The thing inside him roared to the surface, speeding toward the Darkling's call, and he couldn't stop himself from answering that false sense of safety.

The world exploded once again into blazing white light, but this time Izuku wasn't unconscious.

The darkness around them shattered like glass, the illusion splintering and breaking until all that was left was the light, brighter than the sun and warm as a summer day.

For a moment, he saw the faces of the crowd, their mouths wide with shock as the tent filled with shining sunlight, the air shimmering with heat. Then the Darkling released his grip, and with his touch went that peculiar sense of certainty that had possessed him. The radiant light disappeared, leaving only ordinary candlelight in its place, but he could still feel the warm and inexplicable glow of sunshine on his skin.

His legs gave way and the Darkling caught the boy up against his body with one surprisingly strong arm.

"I'm sorry for all of this," he whispered in his ear, breath curling over Izuku's neck, and then beckoned over the boy that had helped Izuku stand from earlier. "Take him," he said, handing the small boy over to the Grisha who reached out his arm to support him once again.

Izuku flushed, red creeping over freckles and tear-stained cheeks, at being handed off like a sack of potatoes, but he was still too shaky and confused to protest.

"Denki!" shouted the Darkling. A Heartrender with electric blond hair and strangely yellow eyes rushed from the dais to the Darkling's side. "Get him to my coach. I want him surrounded by an armed guard at all times. Take him to the Little Palace and stop for nothing. Bring a Healer to tend to his wounds."

Denki nodded, and the tall purple-haired Grisha leaned in close for a split second, whispering, "And Denki? Keep him safe."

"Wait!" Izuku protested, but the Darkling was already turning away. He grabbed hold of the Grisha's arm, wincing at the gasp that rose from onlookers. Not his best thought out plan. "There's been some kind of mistake. I don't… I'm not…" His voice trailed off as the Darkling turned slowly to him, amethyst eyes drifting down to where the greenette's hand gently gripped his sleeve. Izuku let go quickly, but the Grisha's hand seemed to twitch for a second, almost as if reaching further for the warmth. "I'm not what you think I am," Izuku whispered desperately.

The Darkling's eyes softened, and he stepped closer, until they were chest to chest and he was sure only Izuku could hear him. "I doubt you have any idea what you are," he muttered, close enough for his long, tangled lashes to brush Izuku's cheek.

Then he stepped back, nodding to Denki. "Go!"

The Darkling turned his back on the small freckled boy and walked swiftly toward the raised dais, where he was swarmed by advisers and ministers, all talking loudly and rapidly. He looked back for a beat, and it almost seemed as if he was pained by just letting Izuku walk away.

"Come on, man, we gotta get going," the blond Grisha said as he gently caught the small boy by the arm.

"Yeah," Izuku replied absently, searching the crowd for familiar ruby eyes.

And even as he was led away by the two Grisha guards, he twisted to stare over his shoulder, catching sight of Katsuki arguing with the captain from the sandskiff, animated hand gestures and, by the look of it, quite a bit of threatening. As if he could feel the weight of those emerald, starset orbs on him, he turned his head and met Izuku's gaze.

Katsuki's face was pained, the same panic and confusion Izuku felt, mirrored back to him. Those crimson eyes rimmed with red and a sheen of silver, that hurt the aching feeling of finally realizing they were about to be separated.

They were about to be seperated after living out their entire lives together, relying on one another like the endless circle of light and dark.

Izuku wanted to cry out to him, to run to him, but the one moment they were telling each other their last goodbyes, and the next he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.


	8. Healers And Amplifiers

**Healers And Amplifiers**

Tears of frustration welling in Izuku's eyes as he dullfully followed Denki and Hanta out of the tent and into the late-afternoon sun. he was pulled down a low hill to the road where the Darklings black coach was already waiting, surrounded by lines of armed cavalry. Two of the Darkling's gray-clad guards waited by the door to the coach with a woman and the familiar face of Tōru, both of whom bore Corporalki red.

"Hey bro?" Denki asked gently, "I'm sorry 'bout this, but we really need to get you in the coach."

In a split second of a flash of anger, Izuku harshy asked, "And if I don't? What will you do? Punish me?"

A flicker of fear flashed over their faces, and Izuku quickly cupped his mouth.

Were they… afraid of him?

What reason did gour Grisha and a bunch of oprichniki have to be scared of him?

"I- Okay I'll get in the coach," He whispered, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling.

Hanta―the corpalnik that had helped him earlier slowly took one of his small, freckled hands in his own and asked, "Do you want to know why we have to rush you out of here, bud?"

Izuku hesitated, then quickly nodded, bringing up his other hand to wipe what he now realized was tears streaming down his cheeks. "I- I actually would like that. A lot. I don't- I don't know what's going on and- and Asui- Asui's d―"

He cut off as Tōru swept him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Izuku. I never meant to put you through this," she whispered, sweet voice heavy with sorrow.

"Ah- It's okay, Tōru, I- If I can help people it'll all be worth it," he sniffled.

Denki shifted. "In a few hours' time," he began, already glancing around the coach as if someone was hiding in the shallow shadows, "Every Fjerdan spy and Shu Han assassin will know what happened on the Fold, and they'll be coming for you. Our only chance is to get your sweet soul to Os Alta and behind the palace walls before anyone realizes who are you. What you are."

Izuku swallowed heavily, and one glance at Hanta confirmed that, yes, this was happening right now.

This was really happening.

He was the Sun Summoner.

The one from the legends, the one said to be born to save Ravka.

The question hovering on the edge of his mind was more pressing, though.

If I'm here to save Ravka…

What lies on the horizon?

"Izuku," Tōru let go of his hand, "We need to get you to the capital."

"R- Right," he stuttered, quickly climbing into the coach, cradled by the cusand seat.

The four Corporalki joined him, along with the oprichniki, the gray-clad soldiers sliding into either side of him, the red-clas Grisha sitting across from him.

"Here," a gentle voice said, the fourth, green-haired Corpalnik who bore the Healer gray on her cuffs crossed the coach and switched places with the oprichniki.

"My name is Ibara," she greeted, voice soft, "I'll tend to your wounds."

"O- Okay? It's- It's nice to meet you," He found himself squeaking out.

A sodeir ducked his head inside the door. "We're ready," he said to Denki.

The blond nodded. "Good, get it goin' then, man."

Ibara seemed to glance at the Heartrenders with disdain for a second before she turned back to Izuku. "Please remove your coat."

He gulped as the eyes in the coach turned to him. This was fine, this was definitely fine.

She was staring at him.

Why was she staring at him?

Right, she had asked him to remove his coat.

"O- okay- sorry," he whispered, slipping what looked like Katsuki's coat from his shoulders, the fur-lined interior scented with a deep, burnt caramel. He would defend how he didn't notice it wasn't his, after all, the blond was far taller than him, and he should have felt the bottom going down all the way to his knees.

At a gesture from her, Izuku turned around, giving her access to his back. She studied him for a second, sharp green eyes grilling over his non-existent muscles and spine, before she said, "Do you think you can remove your shirt as well?"

"What!" He squeaked, hugging Katsuki's coat to his chest as his face flushed a light crimson.

She simply blinked at him. "I need to see your wounds."

He laughed nervously, amid a little bit hysterically. "Of course. Yup, I knew that. I'm- I'mma just take off my- yup. That's fine."

The greenette reached for the bottom of his shirt, hesitating for only a second and biting his plumb lips, before slowly pulling it up and over his head, scrunching his eyes, lashes tangling, when he finally pulled it over his head.

Tōru snickered when her fellow Heartrenders flushed lightly, Hanta turning his head as to give Izuku space, looking a little guilty, while Denki simply stared at the boy's freckled, flushed face, as he trained his eyes down his neck and chest.

"Gayyy," she whispered.

"Shut up," The blond whispered back.

Izuku, of course, didn't notice, too preoccupied with the sharp scent of sage filling the coach as the Ibara pulled something out of her satchel, but the Healer narrowed her eyes at the Heartrenders over the innocent boy's shoulder.

Denki stuck his tongue out at her and Tōru punched him.

Izuku flinched as the Healer started cleaning his wound, cold, damp cloth stinging against the exposed flesh.

"How much are they feeding you?" She sighed as she worked, and Izuku guessed she was referring to his ribs, extremely visible underneath his unhealthily white skin.

He laughed nervously yet again. "Enough? I just don't… eat that much? My stomach gets kind of mad at me," he explained sheepishly.

She sighed again, and he had the sudden urge to scratch his back when a hot, prickling sensation built up in between his shoulder blades. "That's not healthy, and I trust you're smart enough to know that." She glanced at Denki. "Make sure he gets something to eat. This will work better if he has something in his stomach."

The blond nodded determinately, and at Izuku's questioning look, he simply smiled crookedly, reaching down to give the greenette his shirt.

The boy flushed again at the reminder of his shirtlessness in front of the four Grisha and two oprichniki, quickly pulling the thin fabric over his head, wincing slightly at the twig of pain from his arm. His eyes widened in amazement as his shoulders stretched at the sudden movement, and no lick of heat reached his nerves. He was healed, and if he remembered correctly, only power Healers could heal something like that in minutes.

"Than—" he started, but Ibara cut him off with a raised hand.

"I'm not done yet. We still must heal your arm."

He smiled hesitantly, turning himself back around to face her. "A- are you sure? I don't want to bother anyone."

Her ivy green eyes softened, and she took his hand in her own, gently wiping the crimson blood from his wrist. "Sun Summoner, this is my job. Plus, it is an honor to be healing someone of such great power."

He inhaled sharply. "No no, I'm- I'm not- Me? I don't have…" he trailed off, staring down at the Healer passing her hand slowly over his cut.

Izuku felt his skin throb with heat, and his arm began to itch furiously as he watched in silent amazement. His flesh seemed to shimmer and move as the two sides of the cut knit back together cleanly, the skin sealing itself shut and the raised, red mark that was left behind sunk into his flesh, disappearing until all that was left of the wound caused by the Darkling's knife was thin line, about ten centimeters in length.

"Woah…" he whispered, viridian eyes sparkling and glowing slightly with a hidden, inner golden light.

A shiver swept through the darkened coach, the Heartrenders exchanging glances at the Sun Summoner's shining orbs, silent awe flickering across their faces.

The itching stopped and the Healer sat back. Izuku reached out and ran his fingers along the small scar.

(Denki, seeing they were almost done, gently tapped the coach's roof.)

"Thank you," Izuku whispered in awe, illuminated eyes darting up to the Healer's face.

Ibara seemed to stare at him for a second, taking in the glowing eyes and even brighter smile. This was the Sun Summoner, the boy fated to save Ravke from the terror of the Fold, and she felt like if anyone had a chance of saving all of them, it was the boy in front of her with sun-kissed freckles and a smile that could brighten anyone's day.

She smiled warmly at him. "Anytime. It was an honor, Izuku Midoriya," she said, deliactly slipping her kefta from her shoulder and onto the Sun Summoner's. She bowed once at him, then opened the door, swinging herself out, not even waiting for it to slow to a stop from Denki's command.

"Wait!" Izuku called, stumbling to his feet only to be tugged back down by a very worried Hanta, "Where are you going!"

"She's going back to Kribirsk," Denki explained, shutting the door, "We'll travel faster with less weight."

Izuku frowned. "But what if she gets hurt?"

Hanta chuckled as Denki shuttered, seeming to recall memories. "She can take care of herself, don't worry," he whispered, looking vaguely haunted.

The black-haired Grisha let his laughter spill from his lips. "Denki here tried to make a move on her once. Needless to say, it didn't end well for him."

"Once. Once!" the blond protested, "She didn't have to graft my feet to the floor! She could have just told me no!"

Tōru joined in on the laughter as well, loud cackle merging with Hanta's deep chuckle. "I mean, you did kind of ask for it."

"How?!"

Izuku felt a giggle build in his chest and he could have sworn he saw one of the oprichniki's lips twitch upward.

"What about this?" he asked, pulling at the rose-colored kefta draped around his shoulders, "I mean, my coat is a little bloody, but I can still wear it."

"Oh!" Tōru said excitedly, "It's because that kefta is made with Materialki corecloth! It can withstand rifle fire!"

His eyes widened, and he stared down at the kefta with new-found respect. Theoretically, it should be possible, but he didn't think they would have found a way to make anything bulletproof for at least another decade.

"Do you all wear these all the time?" he asked, that curious lilt gracing his voice like it always did when he learned a new Interesting Thing.

"When we're in the field," said an oprichniki. He nearly jumped out of his seat. It was the first time either of the gray-clad guards had spoken.

"Yeah, all we gotta do is avoid getting shot in the head," Denki smiled.

"Which can be a little hard for someone like this guy," Hanta added, pointing to the blond.

"Hey!" the Grisha laughed, pushing his finger away.

Izuku bit his lip. The kefta fit far better than Katsuki's coat, but it was unfamiliar and didn't carry that same burnt caramel scent. On one hand, the crimson material was literally bulletproof, on the other, it felt like he was betraying Katsuki by putting it on. Plus it didn't seem fair that only oprichniki and Grisha got to wear the fabric but normal soldiers were open to far more attacks.

Why was he even debating this? Logically, he should put on the kefta, the coat should be able to protect him from an array of things in case they were attacked by assassins like Denki said might happen.

…He slipped Katsuki's coat back onto his shoulders.

The coach picked up speed. In the time it had taken for Ibara to do her work, dusk had begun to fall, and they had left Kribirsk behind. He leaned forward, straining to see out the window at the setting sun, the golden oranges and deep purples painting mosaics across the twilight sky.

The boy felt tears well again in his eyes again and quickly blinked them back. A few hours ago, he'd just been a frightened boy on his way into the unknown, but at least he'd known who and what he was. With a pang, he thought of the Document Tent. The other surveyors might be right back to their work. Would they be talking about him and what happened at the Fold? Was Koji alright?

Would they be mourning Tsuyu?

He pulled Katsuki's coat further around him. Surely this all had to be a dream, some crazy hallucination brought on by the terrors of the Shadow Fold. He couldn't really be sitting in the Darkling's coach—the same coach that had almost crushed his childhood friend only the day before.

Someone lit a lamp inside the coach, and in the flickering light he could better see the silken interior. The seats were heavily cushioned black velvet. On the windows, the Darkling's symbol had been cut into the glass: two overlapping circles, the sun in an eclipse.

A silence fell like a heavy blanket across the coach, and Izuku shifted uncomfortably in his seat when he felt the weight of the eyes of five people on him. He looked out the window, but there was nothing to see except the growing darkness and his own pale reflection.

"So…" he started after a beat of awkward silence. "...I like your necklace." The greenette gestured at Denki's neck, ringed with a cluster of sharp black claws on a silver chain.

The blond's chest seemed to swell with pride, and Tōru rolled her eyes. "Of course you do," she sighed, "Why does Denki have to be such an extra. I want cute people to notice me too, Denki! You can't have them all!"

The Heartrender ignored her, smiling brightly at Izuku. "It's my amplifier!"

Instantly, the greenette's eyes lit up. "You have an amplifier!?"

The blond smirked at Tōru and she stuck her tongue out at him. "Yup! Killed it myself!"

Hanta raised his brows. "Killing something isn't exactly a thing to be proud of but sure."

"You're just jealous that the Darkling likes me more."

("That's gay," Tōru whispered.)

"Sure, buddy. _Sure_," Hanta rolled his eyes again.

"Why do you wound me so, Hanta, I thought we were friends."

Meanwhile, Izuku muttered to himself, words spilling from his lips like honey. He knew that amplifiers were extremely rare and hard to find, and one of the famed ones was the legend of Morozova's Herd, but he doubted Denki's was one of them, seeing as deer did not have claws.

But, another thought came to light, a rather unsettling one he had never thought to research before.

"Is… the Darkling an amplifier?" he asked hesitantly, not noticing that the Heartrender's hardy conversation had stopped long before, all of them leaning forward, desperate to catch one of his spare sugary words.

Hanta nodded. "Yeah. The only living amplifier known to history."

Izuku felt a shiver crawl up his spine, suddenly feeling very cold. He remembered the surety that had flooded through him with the Darkling's touch, that strangely familiar sensation of a call echoing through him, a call that demanded an answer. It had been frightening, but exhilarating, too. In that moment, all his doubt and fear had been replaced with absolute certainty.

He was no one, a refugee from an unnamed village, a scrawny, clumsy boy hurtling alone through the gathering dark. But when the Darkling had closed his fingers around Izuku's wrist, he'd felt different, like something more. He shut his eyes and tried to focus, tried to remember that feeling of certainty, to bring that sure, perfect power into blazing light.

Nothing.

He sighed, opening his emerald eyes again. Why was he expecting to be as power as the Darkling? How was he supposed to beat something as massive and powerful as the Fold?

"I'm sorry, but all your faith in me is misplaced," he whispered, no longer glowing eyes downcast and swirling with guilt and regret, "You're all in for a big disappointment."

"No we aren't," Tōru whispered softly, and murmered agreements echoed from Hanta and Denki.

"I think you're going to be the most powerful Grisha in history," Denki said, smiling crookedly at him

Izuku smiled painfully back. "For all our sakes, I hope you're right."


	9. Assassins And Shadows

**Assassins And Shadows**

The next few days passed in a blur of discomfort and exhaustion. They stayed off the Vy and kept to side roads and narrow hunting trails, moving as quickly as the hilly and sometimes treacherous terrain would allow.

Izuku had long since abandoned all sense of where they were or how far they had come, preferring to focus on small things and try not to cry for the fifth time in that day.

After the first day, the Darkling and him had ridden separately, but he found that he was always aware of where the lilac-haired Grisha was in the column of riders. The male hadn't said a word to him, and as the hours and days wore on, Izuku started to worry that he'd somehow offended him. (Though, given how little they'd spoken, he wasn't sure how he could have managed it, but hey, some people seemed to be annoyed by his very existence so there was always that.) Occasionally, he caught the Grisha looking at him, his amethyst eyes cool and unreadable.

Izuku's never been a particularly good rider, and the pace the Darkling set was taking its toll. No matter which way he shifted in his saddle, some part of his body ached.

He stared listlessly at his horse's twitching ears and tried not to think about the burning in his legs, or the throbbing in his lower back.

On the fifth night, when they stopped to make camp at an abandoned farm, he had wanted to leap from his horse with joy. But he was so stiff that he settled for sliding awkwardly to the ground, trying to ignore the twang in his heart when a new soldier helped him down and bowed to him.

"It is my pleasure, Sun Summoner," the soldier had said when he thanked her.

He had never learned the old one's name.

With heavy legs and heart, he saw to his mount, walking her over and tying her up next to a small stream with plenty of slack.

Izuku knelt by the bank with shaky legs and washed his face and hands in the cold water. The air had changed over the last couple of days, the bright blue skies of autumn were giving way to sullen gray. The soldiers seemed to think that they would reach Os Alta before any real weather came on.

But then what? What would happen to him when they reached the Little Palace? What would happen when he couldn't do what they wanted him to do? It wasn't wise to disappoint kings. Or Darklings. He doubted they'd just send him back to the regiment with a pat on the back.

He wonders if Katsuki and Tetsu were still in Kribirsk. If Koda was alive. If their wounds had healed, they might already have been sent back across the Fold or on to some other assignment.

Izuku thought of Katsuki's face disappearing into the crowd in the Grisha tent, that look of almost desperation on his face, those honey red eyes glowing in the candle light.

He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.

He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to Tsu, either.

He blinked quickly against the stinging behind his liquid emerald eyes. Crap. This was not a good time to cry, thank you very much.

In the gathering dusk, he stretched his freckled arms and back, trying to shake the feeling of gloom and hopelessness that had settled over him. It was probably for the best that he hadn't been able to say goodbye to Katsuki. How would he have worded it, anyways? Thanks for being my best friend and making life bearable. Oh, and sorry I fell in love with you for a while there. Make sure to write!

"What are you smiling about?"

He whirled, peering into the gloom. The Darkling's velvety voice seemed to float out of the shadows. He walked down to the stream, crouching on the bank to splash water on his face and through his ashen, wine-purple hair.

"Well?" he asked, focusing those atomic eyes on Izuku.

"Myself," he admitted sheepishly.

"Are you funny?"

"I'm hilarious."

The Darkling regarded him in what reminded him of the twilight. He had the disquieting sensation that he was being studied. Other than a bit of dust on his kefta, their trek seemed to have taken little toll on the Grisha. Izuku's skin prickled with embarrassment as he became keenly aware of his torn, too-large jacket, his dirty hair, and the bruise the Fjerdan assassin had left on his cheek. Was the man looking at him and regretting his decision to drag him all this way? Was he thinking he'd made another of hi infrequent mistakes?

"I'm not Grisha," He blurted.

"The evidence suggests otherwise," the Darkling said with little concern. "What makes you so certain?"

"Look at me!"

"I'm looking."

"Do I look like a Grisha to you?" Grisha were beautiful. They didn't have ghostly white skin and moss green hair and scrawny arms.

The taller boy shook his head and rose. "You don't understand at all," he said and began walking up the hill.

Izuku found himself frowning. He tried to understand everything he could about the Grisha at a young age, and he knew the reason they were so beautiful was that their power came from their cores and extended outwards, replenishing their health and looks every time they used it. "Are you going to explain it to me, then?"

"Not right now, no."

Izuku found himself glaring at the space in between the man's unfairly strong shoulder blades as they trudged up the hill. How dare he be so powerful and infuriating and hot and damnit Izuku had better things to be worrying about right now.

Inside the farm's broken-down barn, the Darkling's men had cleared a space on the earthen floor and built a fire. One of them had caught and killed a grouse and was roasting it over the flames. It made a poor meal shared among all of them, but the Darkling did not want to send his men raging into the woods for game.

Izuku took his place by the fire and ate his small potion in silence, finding himself quite satisfied with the meal. He had always had a small stomach. When he'd finished, he hesitated for only a second before wiping his greasy fingers on his tattered pants, wanting to avoid dirtying the kefta wrapped around his waist more than he had to. He felt too grateful towards Ibara to mess it up.

In the amber firelight, he watched the oprichniki sitting side by side with the Grisha. Some of them had already drifted away from the fire to bed down for the night. Others had been posted to the first watch. The rest sat, talking, as the flames ebbed, passing a flask back and forth. The Darkling sat with them.

Izuku had noticed that the tall boy had taken no more than his share of grouse. And now he sat beside his soldiers on the cold ground, a man second in power only to the King.

He must have felt the sage-haired boy's gaze, because he turned to look at him, his burnt violet eyes glimmering in the firelight.

Izuku flushed, and to his dismay, the Grisha rose and came to sit beside him, offering the small boy a flask. Izuku hesitated and then took a sip, grimacing at the taste. He'd never liked kvas, but the teachers at Keramzin had drank it like water. Katsuki and him had stolen a bottle once. The beating they'd taken when they were caught had been nothing compared to how miserably sick they'd been.

Still, it burned going down, and the warmth was welcome. He took another sip and handed the flask back to the Darkling. "Thank you," he said with a little cough.

The Grisha drank, staring into the fire, and then said, "All right. Ask me."

Izuku blinked at him, taken aback. He wasn't sure where to begin. HIs tired mind had been brimming with questions, whirring in a state between panic and exhaustion and disbelief since they'd left Kribirsk. He wasn't sure that he had the energy to form a thought, and when he opened his mouth, the question that came out over all the clamor surprised him.

"How old are you?"

He glanced at the freckled boy, bemused at the flush quickly spreading over those delicately dotted cheeks.

"I don't know exactly."

"How can you not know?"

The Darkling shrugged. "How old are you exactly?"

Izuku's brows furrowed, contemplating for a second before saying, "Well, then, roughly how old are you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I've heard stories and read so much about you since I was a child, but you don't look much older than I am," he answered honestly.

"What kind of stories?"

"The usual kind." he shrugged, mind flitting back to all the "The Darkling will kill us all!" ones. "Sorry, that was probably really personal. If you don't want to answer me, just say so."

"I don't want to answer you."

"Oh."

Then he sighed and said, "One hundred and twenty. Give or take."

"What?" Izuku squeaked. The soldier sitting across from them glanced over. "That's impossible," he said more quietly.

The Darkling looked into the flames, dancing oranges and golds reflecting off his twilight eyes. "When a fire burns, it uses up the wood. It devours it, leaving only ash. Grisha power doesn't work that way."

Izuku, of course, already knew this, but he decided he might as well humor the man that could kill him with a single twitch of his fingers. "How does it work?"

"Using our power makes us stronger. It feeds us instead of consuming us. Most Grisha live long lives."

"But not one hundred and twenty years."

"No," he admitted. "The length of a Grisha's life is proportional to their power. The greater the power, the longer the life. And when that power is amplified…" He railed off with a shrug.

"And you're a living amplifier. Like Denki's bear."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Like Denki's bear."

Izuku sucked in through his teeth as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. "But that means—"

"That my bones or a few of my teeth would make another Grisha very powerful."

"Well that's completely creepy. Doesn't that worry you a little bit?"

"No," he said simply. "Now you answer my question. What kind of stories were you told about me?"

Izuku shifted uncomfortably, trying to sort through and find the least nonsense-made ones. "Well… our teachers told us that you strengthened the Second Army by gathering Grisha from outside of Ravka."

"I didn't have to gather them. They came to me. Other countries don't treat their Grisha so well as Ravka," he said grimly. "The Fjerdans burn us as witches, and the Kerch sell us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up seeking the source of our power. What else?"

"They said you were the strongest Darkling in generations."

"I didn't ask you for flattery."

Izuku fingered a loose thread on the cuff of Katsuki's jacket. The Darkling watched him with those intense amethyst eyes, waiting.

"Well," he hesitated, "there was an old serf who worked on the estate…"

"Go on," the taller boy urged him. "Tell me."

"He… he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created Shadow Fold." Izuku glanced at his cold face and added hastily, "But Midnight sent him packing and told us it was all peasant superstition."

The Darkling sighed. "I doubt that serf is the only one who believes that."

Izuku said nothing. Not everyone thought like Monama or the old serf, but he'd been in the First Army long enough to know that most ordinary soldiers didn't trust Grisha and felt no allegiance to the Darkling.

After a moment, the Darkling said, "My great-great-great-grandfather was the Black Heretic, the Darkling who created the Shadow Fold. it was a mistake, an experiment born of his greed, maybe his evil. I don't know why. But every Darkling since has tried to undo the damage he did to our country, and I'm no different." He turned to the small boy then, his expression serious, the firelight playing over the perfect planes of his features. "I've spent my life searching for a way to make things right. You're the first glimmer of hope I've had in a long time."

"Me?" Izuku found himself whispering, the words dripping like soft pedals from his lips.

"The world is changing, Izuku," the Darkling said, those shining lavender eyes searching his own, "Muskets and rifles are just the beginning. I've seen the weapons they're developing in Kerch and Fjerda. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end."

It was a terrifying thought. "But… but what about the First Army? They have rifles. They have weapons."

"Where do you think their rifles come from? Their ammunition? Every time we cross the Fold, we lose lives. A divided Ravka won't survive the new age. We need our ports. We need our harbors. And only you can give them back to us."

"How?" Izuku pleaded. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"By helping me destroy the Shadow Fold."

Izuku shook his head. "You're crazy. This is all crazy."

He looked up through the broken beams of the barn's rook to the night sky. It was full of stars, but he could only see the endless reaches of darkness between them. Izuku imagined himself standing in the dead silence on the Shadow Fold, blind, frightened, with nothing to protect him but his supposed power. He thought of the Black Heretic. He had created the Fold, a Darkling, just like the one who sat watching him closely in the firelight.

"What about that thing you did?" He asked before he could lose his nerve. "To the Fjerdan?"

The Darkling looked back into the fire. "It's called that Cut. It requires great power and great focus; it's something few Grisha can do."

Izuku rubbed his arms, trying to stave off the chill that had taken hold of him.

The tall Grisha glanced at him and ten back to the fire. "If I had cut him down with a sword, would that make it any better?"

Would it? Izuku had seen countless horrors in the last few days. But even after the nightmares of the Fold, the image that stayed with him, that reared up in his dreams and chased him into waking was the bearded man's severed body , swaying in the dappled sunlight before it toppled onto him.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

Something flashed across the Darkling's face then, something akin to anger or maybe even pain. Without another word, he rose and walked away from the greenette.

Izuku watched him walk into the swirling darkness and felt a stab of guilt in his heart. He hadn't meant to imply he thought the Darkling was evil in any way, especially after he had seen all the man had done for him, but it might have come off like that.

And as he thought back to the look that had flickered over his perfect features, the shame in his voice when he talked about the Black Heretic, Izuku couldn't help but feel as though he had failed some kind of test.


	10. Darklings And Words By Firelight

**Darklings And Words By Firelight **

The next few days passed in a blur of discomfort and exhaustion. They stayed off the Vy and kept to side roads and narrow hunting trails, moving as quickly as the hilly and sometimes treacherous terrain would allow.

Izuku had long since abandoned all sense of where they were or how far they had come, preferring to focus on small things and try not to cry for the fifth time in that day.

After the first day, the Darkling and him had ridden separately, but he found that he was always aware of where the lilac-haired Grisha was in the column of riders. The male hadn't said a word to him, and as the hours and days wore on, Izuku started to worry that he'd somehow offended him. (Though, given how little they'd spoken, he wasn't sure how he could have managed it, but hey, some people seemed to be annoyed by his very existence so there was always that.) Occasionally, he caught the Grisha looking at him, his amethyst eyes cool and unreadable.

Izuku's never been a particularly good rider, and the pace the Darkling set was taking its toll. No matter which way he shifted in his saddle, some part of his body ached.

He stared listlessly at his horse's twitching ears and tried not to think about the burning in his legs, or the throbbing in his lower back.

On the fifth night, when they stopped to make camp at an abandoned farm, he had wanted to leap from his horse with joy. But he was so stiff that he settled for sliding awkwardly to the ground, trying to ignore the twang in his heart when a new soldier helped him down and bowed to him.

"It is my pleasure, Sun Summoner," the soldier had said when he thanked her.

He had never learned the old one's name.

With heavy legs and heart, he saw to his mount, walking her over and tying her up next to a small stream with plenty of slack.

Izuku knelt by the bank with shaky legs and washed his face and hands in the cold water. The air had changed over the last couple of days, the bright blue skies of autumn were giving way to sullen gray. The soldiers seemed to think that they would reach Os Alta before any real weather came on.

But then what? What would happen to him when they reached the Little Palace? What would happen when he couldn't do what they wanted him to do? It wasn't wise to disappoint kings. Or Darklings. He doubted they'd just send him back to the regiment with a pat on the back.

He wonders if Katsuki and Tetsu were still in Kribirsk. If Koda was alive. If their wounds had healed, they might already have been sent back across the Fold or on to some other assignment.

Izuku thought of Katsuki's face disappearing into the crowd in the Grisha tent, that look of almost _desperation_ on his face, those honey red eyes glowing in the candle light.

He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.

He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to Tsu, either.

He blinked quickly against the stinging behind his liquid emerald eyes. Crap. This was not a good time to cry, thank you very much.

In the gathering dusk, he stretched his freckled arms and back, trying to shake the feeling of gloom and hopelessness that had settled over him. It was probably for the best that he hadn't been able to say goodbye to Katsuki. How would he have worded it, anyways? _Thanks for being my best friend and making life bearable. Oh, and sorry I fell in love with you for a while there. Make sure to write!_

"What are you smiling about?"

He whirled, peering into the gloom. The Darkling's velvety voice seemed to float out of the shadows. He walked down to the stream, crouching on the bank to splash water on his face and through his ashen, wine-purple hair.

"Well?" he asked, focusing those atomic eyes on Izuku.

"Myself," he admitted sheepishly.

"Are you funny?"

"I'm hilarious."

The Darkling regarded him in what reminded him of the twilight. He had the disquieting sensation that he was being studied. Other than a bit of dust on his _kefta_, their trek seemed to have taken little toll on the Grisha. Izuku's skin prickled with embarrassment as he became keenly aware of his torn, too-large jacket, his dirty hair, and the bruise the Fjerdan assassin had left on his cheek. Was the man looking at him and regretting his decision to drag him all this way? Was he thinking he'd made another of hi infrequent mistakes?

"I'm not Grisha," He blurted.

"The evidence suggests otherwise," the Darkling said with little concern. "What makes you so certain?"

"Look at me!"

"I'm looking."

"Do I look like a Grisha to you?" Grisha were beautiful. They didn't have ghostly white skin and moss green hair and scrawny arms.

The taller boy shook his head and rose. "You don't understand at all," he said and began walking up the hill.

Izuku found himself frowning. He tried to understand everything he could about the Grisha at a young age, and he knew the reason they were so beautiful was that their power came from their cores and extended outwards, replenishing their health and looks every time they used it. "Are you going to explain it to me, then?"

"Not right now, no."

Izuku found himself glaring at the space in between the man's unfairly strong shoulder blades as they trudged up the hill. How dare he be so powerful and infuriating and hot and damnit Izuku had better things to be worrying about right now.

Inside the farm's broken-down barn, the Darkling's men had cleared a space on the earthen floor and built a fire. One of them had caught and killed a grouse and was roasting it over the flames. It made a poor meal shared among all of them, but the Darkling did not want to send his men raging into the woods for game.

Izuku took his place by the fire and ate his small potion in silence, finding himself quite satisfied with the meal. He had always had a small stomach. When he'd finished, he hesitated for only a second before wiping his greasy fingers on his tattered pants, wanting to avoid dirtying the _kefta_ wrapped around his waist more than he had to. He felt too grateful towards Ibara to mess it up.

In the amber firelight, he watched the _oprichniki_ sitting side by side with the Grisha. Some of them had already drifted away from the fire to bed down for the night. Others had been posted to the first watch. The rest sat, talking, as the flames ebbed, passing a flask back and forth. The Darkling sat with them.

Izuku had noticed that the tall boy had taken no more than his share of grouse. And now he sat beside his soldiers on the cold ground, a man second in power only to the King.

He must have felt the sage-haired boy's gaze, because he turned to look at him, his burnt violet eyes glimmering in the firelight.

Izuku flushed, and to his dismay, the Grisha rose and came to sit beside him, offering the small boy a flask. Izuku hesitated and then took a sip, grimacing at the taste. He'd never liked _kvas_, but the teachers at Keramzin had drank it like water. Katsuki and him had stolen a bottle once. The beating they'd taken when they were caught had been nothing compared to how miserably sick they'd been.

Still, it burned going down, and the warmth was welcome. He took another sip and handed the flask back to the Darkling. "Thank you," he said with a little cough.

The Grisha drank, staring into the fire, and then said, "All right. Ask me."

Izuku blinked at him, taken aback. He wasn't sure where to begin. HIs tired mind had been brimming with questions, whirring in a state between panic and exhaustion and disbelief since they'd left Kribirsk. He wasn't sure that he had the energy to form a thought, and when he opened his mouth, the question that came out over all the clamor surprised him.

"How old are you?"

He glanced at the freckled boy, bemused at the flush quickly spreading over those delicately dotted cheeks.

"I don't know exactly."

"How can you not know?"

The Darkling shrugged. "How old are _you_ exactly?"

Izuku's brows furrowed, contemplating for a second before saying, "Well, then, roughly how old are you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I've heard stories and read so much about you since I was a child, but you don't look much older than I am," he answered honestly.

"What kind of stories?"

"The usual kind." he shrugged, mind flitting back to all the "_The Darkling will kill us all!"_ ones. "Sorry, that was probably really personal. If you don't want to answer me, just say so."

"I don't want to answer you."

"Oh."

Then he sighed and said, "One hundred and twenty. Give or take."

"What?" Izuku squeaked. The soldier sitting across from them glanced over. "That's impossible," he said more quietly.

The Darkling looked into the flames, dancing oranges and golds reflecting off his twilight eyes. "When a fire burns, it uses up the wood. It devours it, leaving only ash. Grisha power doesn't work that way."

Izuku, of course, already knew this, but he decided he might as well humor the man that could kill him with a single twitch of his fingers. "How does it work?"

"Using our power makes us stronger. It feeds us instead of consuming us. Most Grisha live long lives."

"But not one hundred and twenty years."

"No," he admitted. "The length of a Grisha's life is proportional to their power. The greater the power, the longer the life. And when that power is amplified…" He railed off with a shrug.

"And you're a living amplifier. Like Denki's bear."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Like Denki's bear."

Izuku sucked in through his teeth as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. "But that means—"

"That my bones or a few of my teeth would make another Grisha very powerful."

"Well that's completely creepy. Doesn't that worry you a little bit?"

"No," he said simply. "Now you answer my question. What kind of stories were you told about me?"

Izuku shifted uncomfortably, trying to sort through and find the least nonsense-made ones. "Well… our teachers told us that you strengthened the Second Army by gathering Grisha from outside of Ravka."

"I didn't have to gather them. They came to me. Other countries don't treat their Grisha so well as Ravka," he said grimly. "The Fjerdans burn us as witches, and the Kerch sell us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up seeking the source of our power. What else?"

"They said you were the strongest Darkling in generations."

"I didn't ask you for flattery."

Izuku fingered a loose thread on the cuff of Katsuki's jacket. The Darkling watched him with those intense amethyst eyes, waiting.

"Well," he hesitated, "there was an old serf who worked on the estate…"

"Go on," the taller boy urged him. "Tell me."

"He… he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created Shadow Fold." Izuku glanced at his cold face and added hastily, "But Midnight sent him packing and told us it was all peasant superstition."

The Darkling sighed. "I doubt that serf is the only one who believes that."

Izuku said nothing. Not everyone thought like Monama or the old serf, but he'd been in the First Army long enough to know that most ordinary soldiers didn't trust Grisha and felt no allegiance to the Darkling.

After a moment, the Darkling said, "My great-great-great-grandfather was the Black Heretic, the Darkling who created the Shadow Fold. it was a mistake, an experiment born of his greed, maybe his evil. I don't know why. But every Darkling since has tried to undo the damage he did to our country, and I'm no different." He turned to the small boy then, his expression serious, the firelight playing over the perfect planes of his features. "I've spent my life searching for a way to make things right. You're the first glimmer of hope I've had in a long time."

"Me?" Izuku found himself whispering, the words dripping like soft pedals from his lips.

"The world is changing, Izuku," the Darkling said, those shining lavender eyes searching his own, "Muskets and rifles are just the beginning. I've seen the weapons they're developing in Kerch and Fjerda. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end."

It was a terrifying thought. "But… but what about the First Army? They have rifles. They have weapons."

"Where do you think their rifles come from? Their ammunition? Every time we cross the Fold, we lose lives. A divided Ravka won't survive the new age. We need our ports. We need our harbors. And only you can give them back to us."

"How?" Izuku pleaded. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"By helping me destroy the Shadow Fold."

Izuku shook his head. "You're crazy. This is all crazy."

He looked up through the broken beams of the barn's rook to the night sky. It was full of stars, but he could only see the endless reaches of darkness between them. Izuku imagined himself standing in the dead silence on the Shadow Fold, blind, frightened, with nothing to protect him but his supposed power. He thought of the Black Heretic. He had created the Fold, a Darkling, just like the one who sat watching him closely in the firelight.

"What about that thing you did?" He asked before he could lose his nerve. "To the Fjerdan?"

The Darkling looked back into the fire. "It's called that Cut. It requires great power and great focus; it's something few Grisha can do."

Izuku rubbed his arms, trying to stave off the chill that had taken hold of him.

The tall Grisha glanced at him and ten back to the fire. "If I had cut him down with a sword, would that make it any better?"

Would it? Izuku had seen countless horrors in the last few days. But even after the nightmares of the Fold, the image that stayed with him, that reared up in his dreams and chased him into waking was the bearded man's severed body , swaying in the dappled sunlight before it toppled onto him.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

Something flashed across the Darkling's face then, something akin to anger or maybe even pain. Without another word, he rose and walked away from the greenette.

Izuku watched him walk into the swirling darkness and felt a stab of guilt in his heart. He hadn't meant to imply he thought the Darkling was evil in any way, especially after he had seen all the man had done for him, but it might have come off like that.

And as he thought back to the look that had flickered over his perfect features, the shame in his voice when he talked about the Black Heretic, Izuku couldn't help but feel as though he had failed some kind of test.


	11. The Palace Of Dreams

**The Palace Of Dreams**

Two days later, just after dawn, they passed through a massive gate and the famous double walls of Os Alta.

Katsuki and him had taken their training not far from there, in the military stronghold at Poliznaya, but they had never been inside they city itself. Os Alta was reserved for the very wealthy, for the homes of military and government officials, their families, their mistresses, and all the businesses that catered to them.

He stared in wonder as they passed shuttered shops, a wide marketplace where a few vendors were already setting up their stalls, and crowded rows of narrow houses Os Alta was called the dream city. It was the capital of Ravka, home to the Grisha and the King's Grand Palace. And yet if anything, Izuku couldn't help but think it looked like a bigger, dirtier version of the market town at Keramzin.

All that changed when they reached the bridge. It spanned a wide canal where little boats bobbed in the water beneath it. And on the other side, rising from the mist, white and gleaming, was the other Os Alta. As they crossed the bridge, he saw that it could be raised to turn into a giant moat that would separate the dream city before them from the common mess of the market that lay behind.

"The hierarchy in it's finest," one of the soldiers muttered. Izuku found himself rubbing the small scar on his palm in a silent agreement.

When they reached the other side of the canal, it was as if they had passed into another world. Everywhere his emerald eyes flickered, he saw fountains and plazas, verdant parks, and broad boulevards lined with perfect rows of trees. Here and there, he saw lights on in the lower stories of the grand houses, where kitchen fires wee being lit and the day's work was starting.

The streets began to slope upward, and as they climbed higher, the houses became larger and more imposing, until—finally—they arrived at another wall and another set of gates, these wrought in gleaming gold and emblazoned with the King's double eagle. Along the wall, he could see heavily armed men at their posts, a grim reminder that for all its beauty, Os Alta was still the capital of a country that had long been at war.

The gate swung open.

They rode up a broad path paved in glittering gravel and bordered by rows of elegant trees. To the left and right, stretching into the distance, he saw manicured gardens, rich with green and hazy in the mist of early morning. Above it all, atop a series of marble terraces and golden fountains, loomed the Grand Palace, the Ravkan King's winter home.

When they finally reached the huge double-eagle fountain at its base, the Darkling brought his horse up beside Izuku's, his liquid stardust eyes seeming to glow in the fog.

"So what do you think of it?" he asked.

Izuku glanced at him, then back to the elaborate facade. It was larger than any building he had ever seen, its terraces crowded with statues, it's three stories gleaming with row after row of shining windows, each ornamentad extensively in what he suspected was real gold.

"It's very… grand?" he said carefully.

The Darkling looked at him, a little smile playing on his sinful lips. "I think it's the ugliest building I've ever seen," he said, and promptly nudged his horse forward.

They followed a path that curved behind the palace and deeper into the grounds, passing a hedge maze, a rolling lawn with a columned temple at its center, and a vast greenhouse, its windows clouded with condensation. Then they entered a thick stand of trees, large enough that it felt like a small wood, and passed through a long, dark corridor where the branches made a dense, braided roof above them.

The hair on Izuku's arms rose. He had the same feeling that he'd had as they were crossing the canal, that crawling sense of crossing the boundary between two worlds.

When they emerged from the tunnel into weak sunshine, he looked down a gentle slope and saw a building like nothing his imagination could have ever created.

"Welcome to the Little Palace," said the Darkling, faint amusement coloring his tone—along with something else—as he stared at Izuku's full-blown pupils and cupid lips curling in pure wonder.

It was strange name—the Little Palace—because though it was smaller than the Grand Palace, the "Little" Palace was still huge. It rose from the trees surrounding it like something carved from an enchanted forest, a cluster of dark wood walls and golden domes. As they drew closer, he saw that every inch of it was covered in intricate carvings of birds and flowers, twisting vines, and magical beasts.

A charcoal-clad group of servants waited on the steps. Izuku dismounted, frowning slightly as one of them rushed forward to take his horse while the other pushed open a large set of double doors. He had always felt uncomfortable when people did things for him, but he decided to leave it alone (but just this once) as the Darkling sent him a raised brow at his flailing hands.

As they passed through the door, Izuku couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch the exquisite carvings. They had been inlaid with mother-of-pearl so that they sparkled in the early-morning light. Izuku whispered as they walked as well, the words dripping from his lips in the cold air. How many hands, how many years had it taken to create such a place?

They passed through an entry chamber and then into a vast hexagonal room with four long tables arranged in a square at its center. Their footsteps echoed off the stone floor and a massive gold dome seemed to float above them at an impossible height.

The Darkling took aside one of the servants, an older woman in a charcoal dress, and spoke to her in hushed tones. Then, he gave Izuku a small bow and strode across the hall, followed by his men.

Izuku felt a surge of anxiety. The man had said little to him since that night in the barn, and he'd given him next to no idea what to expect once they arrived. Had he upset him that much? If so, what had he said, specifically? The small boy wanted to run after him, stop him and ask him sincerely how he could make it up to him, but he didn't have nearly enough never or energy to do that, so he just meekly followed the woman in gray through another pair of double doors and into one of the smaller towers.

When he saw all the stairs, he almost broke down and wept. "Maybe I'll just ask if I can stay down here in the middle of the hall," he whispered, closing his eyes. And yet, he put his hand on the carved banister and dragged himself upward, his stiff body protesting every step.

When they reached the top, he felt like celebrating by lying down and taking a nap, but the woman was already moving down the hallway. They passed door after door, until finally they reached a chamber were another uniformed maid stood waiting by an open doorway.

Dimly, he registered a large room, heavy golden curtains, a fire burning in a beautifully tiled grate, but all he really could see was the huge canopied bed. Okay, so it looked a little too soft for his taste but pickers can't be choosers.

"Can I get you anything? Something to eat?" asked the woman.

"Ah- no thank you," Izuku said, tongue heavy in his mouth.

The woman seemed to understand. "Very good," she said, and nodded to the maid, who curtsied and disappeared down the hall. "Then I'll let you rest. Make sure to lock your door."

Izuku blinked.

"As a precaution," said the woman and left, closing the door gently behind her.

"A precaution against what?" he wondered aloud, speech still slurred as his brain sluggishly tried to start moving again. He vaguely recalled, after on, peeling off Katsuki's jacket and untying the _kefta_ from his waist, taking off his boots, and falling into bed, emerald eyes sliding shut almost instantly, plunging his conscious into inky darkness.


	12. Amaranth And Gold

**Amaranth And Gold**

Izuku dreamed that he was back in Keramzin, slipping through the darkened hallways on stockinged feet, trying to find Katsuki. He could hear him calling to him, but the blonde's voice never seemed to get any closer. Finally, he reached the top floor and the door to the old blue bedroom where they liked to sit in the window and look out at their meadow. Izuku heard Katsuki laughing. He threw open the door… and screamed. Shining crimson blood dripped from where the ceiling met the walls and coated every surface it could reach. The volcra was perched on the window seat and, as it turned on him and opened its horrible jaws, Izuku saw that it had muted amethyst eyes.

Izuku bolted awake, his heart thudding in his chest, wide basil eyes searching the room in silent terror. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was. Then he groaned and flopped back onto the pillows.

The Little Palace.

Stairs.

It was all coming back to him, now.

He just started dozing off again when someone began pounding on the door.

He groaned again. "Five more minutes, Kacchan," he mumbled from beneath the covers. But the pounding only grew louder. He sat up, wincing as his whole body shrieked in rebellion. A pounding graced behind his eyes, and when he tried to stand, his legs wouldn't cooperate.

"Okay!" he shouted, running a hand over his freckles. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

The knocking stopped.

Izuku stumbled over to the door and reached for the knob. Ah, right He had forgotten to lock it. "I think it's open," he mumbled, turning the brass tiredly.

He had barely opened it when the door flew open and a tell girl pushed past him, surveying the room with a critical eye. She was easily one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. Her short, curly hair was cottony pink, her irises large and golden—heavily set against her black sclera; her pink-tinged skin was so flawless that she looked as if her perfect cheekbones had been carved from marble. She wore a cream-colored kefta embroidered in gold and lined in sea-fox fur, the blue tint almost glowing against her cupid-flushed freckles.

Izuku felt a familiar warmth bloom on his cheeks and flush down his neck. Why were all the Grisha so pretty?

"All Saints," she said, looking him over with those exotic eyes. "Have you even bathed? Has anyone fed you at all? What happened to your face?"

HIs hand flew to the deepening purple bruise on his cheek. It had been nearly a week since he'd left camp (a week since Tsu—), and longer since he'd bathed or washed his hair. He was covered in dirt and blood and the smell of sweat. "I—"

But the girl was already shouting orders to the servants who had followed her into his room. "Draw a bath. A hot one. I'll need my kit, and get him out of those nasty clothes. Poor thing's going to get an infection at this point. Oh, and will someone please get him something to eat. Preferably some sort of pastry, he looks like he's about to collapse."

The servants nodded, half of them out the door in a second, the other half either hurrying to the bathroom or descending onto him, hands pulling at his buttons.

Izuku squeaked, batting their hands away on instinct.

The Grisha girl rolled her eyes. "Hold him down if you have to. Gently, though!"

The servants redoubled their efforts.

"Wait!" he squeaked, moving away from them. They hesitated, looking from him to the girl.

Honestly, nothing sounded better than a hot bath and a change of clothes, but Izuku's mind was whirling at all the commotion and it would be nice to even have a hint of what was going on. "What are you doing? Who are you? What's happening?"

The servants paused, looking between him and the amaranth-haired girl.

The girl looked to be in a small internal crises, running a hand over her face before taking a deep breath and saying slowly, "My name is Mina. In less than an hour, you will be presented to the King and it is my job to make you look presentable." She paused, thinking for a second and added, "Mostly everyone here are monsters and doesn't want to give you time to rest and eat like you clearly need to."

Izuku's thought came to a halt. He was going to meet the King? _Him? _A boy that just so happened to be at the right place at the right time?

"Oh," he said meekly.

Mina chuckled. "Yes, 'oh.' So, shall we?"

Izuku nodded mutely, and the Grisha clapped her hands. The servants flew into action, yanking at his clothes and dragging him into the bathroom. The night before he had been too tired to even notice the room, but nw, even shivering and quite frankly scared witless at the prospect of having to meet a king, he marveled at the tiny bronze tiles that rippled over every surface and the sunken oval tub of beaten copper that the servants were filling with steaming water. Beside the tub, the wall was covered in a mosaic of shells and shimmering abalone.

And he still couldn't believe that this was his room. Wasn't there someone more important that deserved this beautiful space?

"In! In!" said one of the servants, giving him a nudge.

Izuku climbed in. The water was painfully hot, but he endured it rather than try to ease in slowly. Military life had somewhat cured him of most his modesty (something Katsuki always said was weird), but there was definitely something different about being the only naked person in the room, especially when everyone kept shooting curious glances at him.

Izuku squeaked as one of the servants grabbed his head and began furiously washing his hair. Another leaned over the tub and started scrubbing at his nails.

Once he adjusted to it… the heat of the water almost felt good on his aching body. He hadn't had a hot bath in well over an ear, and he had never dreamed that there might have been such a tub. Or a room. Or a palace.

Saints, when did this happen? Who just goes "You. I like you. I'm taking you to my giant palace and giving you a giant room and teaching you how to be a superhuman with sun powers ad we're going to get married and rule the world and you're never seeing your childhood crush again—"

Wait what?

"Out! Out!" ordered one of the servants, tugging at his arm after he had been scrubbed and dunked enough to reach their standards.

Reluctantly, he climber from the tub, letting the women (why were they all women? How did they know he was gay?) dry him roughly with thick towels. One of the younger servants stepped forward with a heavy velvet robe and led him into the bedroom. The she and the others backed out the door, leaving Izuku alone with Ashido.

(There was so much casual weath adoring every nook and cranny in The Little Palace, Izuku still wasn't quite sure what he was doing there.)

Izuku watched the Grisha almost warily. She had thrown open the curtains and pulled an elaborately carved wooden table and chair over by the windows.

"Sit," she commanded. Izuku winced, obeying.

A small trunk lay open by her hand, its contents spread out on the tabletop; squat jars full of what looked like berries, leaves, and colored powders. The emerald-eyed boy didn't have a chance to investigate further, because Mina took hold of his chin, peering closely at his face and turning his bruised cheek toward the light from the window. She took a breath and let her fingers travel over his sin. Izuku felt the same prickling sensation he'd experienced when Ibara took care of his wounds from the Fold.

Long minutes passed as he clenched his fists to keep from scratching. Then Ashido stepped back and the itching receded. She handed him a small golden mirror. The bruise as completely gone. Izuku pressed the freckled skin tentatively, but there was no soreness.

"Thank you," he said, steering the mirror down and starting to stand. But the bubblegum-skinned Grisha pushed him right back down.

"Where do you think you're going, mister? We're not done."

"But—"

"If the Darkling wanted you healed, he would have sent a Healer."

"You're… not a Healer?"

"I'm not wearing red, am I?" Mina retorted, an edge of bitterness in her tone. She gestured to herself. "I'm a Tailor."

Izuku's brow furrowed. He'd never heard of a Grisha called a Tailor, much less seen a Grisha with a white kefta. "I'm… guessing you don't make clothes?"

Mina's lips lifted in a grin. "No, I basically fix people's faces," she laughed. "I wasn't _born_ looking this fabulous."

Izuku blinked. That… sort of made sense, in a way. If Healers could mend wounds and Heartrenders could make them, why not a Grisha that could manipulate looks? It was certainly a useful skill, especially if you needed to go undercover at any point and needed to appear a different person.

"Wait so you want to change… my face?"

She shook her head. "Now change. I'm probably just going to freshen you up a bit."

The sage-haired boy bit his lip. He was acutely aware of his shortcomings, especially when it came to looks, but did he really need to be changed? Did the Darkling think he was that ugly?

Ashido's sunset gold eyes softened. "The Darkling didn't send me because he thinks you look bad."

…Aaaand he was mumbling again.

Izuku emerald gaze fixed on the spread of strangely colored objects in front of him. "Why else would he send you here, then. I mean, I think you're nice and I would really like to get to know you better but… what other reason would he have?"

The Grisha inhaled deeply, glancing at the closed doors then back at him, rubbing her pastel hands together. "Izuku… the court isn't exactly a good place. Yes, here—in the Little Palace—we learn to control not just the Small Sciences but who we are and how we treat others. It comes with being a Grisha, if you will. But… The Big Palace? Is full of self-righteous fools who only value fake beauty and people who _'__know where their place is'_."

The boy stiffened, glancing at heavy doors as well. "That's treason," he whispered, lips parting in something between horror and awe.

Ashido snorted, running a hand through her cottony hair. "Please. As a Grisha alone I'm protected greatly by the might of the Darkling. The entire court is scared of him—terrified of things they know next to nothing about. And you… well let's just say you could likely kill the King and get away with it."

"But… why would I want to kill the King?" Izuku gasped.

The girl's eyes darkened. "You haven't met him yet. Trust me, it's a widely accepted fact that everyone hates him. The best we can hope for at this point is for either his eldest son to come and take the throne—but he's been out at sea for years, or the Darkling to finally get fed up with all his shit. That's why so many people follow us Grisha, to be honest."

"That's… not very good," Izuku found himself saying, captivated by the sudden change in the Grisha's expression. Was the King really that bad? How could someone who ran a Kingdom be so terrible?

"No, it's not," Ashido agreed. "Which is why we need to get you ready to meet him."

The small boy nodded, letting out a shaky breath and rubbing the scar on his palm. "Okay."

Ashido chuckled. "You sound like you're being sent to your death. Here," she said, lifting up the hand mirror again so he could see what she was doing, "You can watch. But you have to stay still, don't talk."

Izuku held up the mirror as she worked, watching as Ashido's cool finger-tips descended slowly over his forehead. His skin prickled, and his eyes widened with growing amazement as Ashido's hands traveled over his freckles. Every blemish, every scrape, every flaw seemed to disappear beneath her fingers. She placed her thumbs beneath his eyes.

"Oh!" Izuku exclaimed in surprise as the dark circles that had plagued him since childhood disappeared.

"Don't get too excited," Ashido laughed. "It's temporary. I would recommend actually eating and sleeping to have those go away for good." She reached for one of the roses on the table and plucked a pale pink petal. She held it up to his cheek, and the color bled from the petal onto his skin, leaving what looked like a pretty flush. Then, the Grisha held a fresh petal to his lips and repeated the process. "It only lasts a few days," she informed him. "Now the hair."

She plucked a long comb made of bone from her trunk along with a glass jar filled with something that shimmered.

Stunned, Izuku asked, "Is that real gold?"

"Of course," Ashido answered, lifting a chunk of dull mossy hair. She shook some of the gold leaf into the crown of his head and, as she pulled the comb lightly though his hair, the gold seemed to dissolve into shimmering strands. As she finished with each section, she wound the hair around her fingers, and it seemed to pop back into its curly state instead of just going fluffy like it did whenever he tried to do anything to it.

Finally the girl stepped back, surveying him with a smug smile. "I would do more, like your eyelashes, but you're already annoyingly cute. Like I said, we just needed to freshen you up a bit. Understandable after such a long journey."

Izuku examined himself in the mirror. His hair shone. His cheeks held a rosy flush. He wasn't very pretty—at least not in his opinion, but he couldn't deny the improvement. "Thank you," he said, turning to Ashido with a wide smile.

The girl flushed slightly. "Anytime, Sun Summoner. Careful with that smile, though. You don't want to attract too much attention from the King." Her voice was light, but Izuku saw a flash of a shadow pass over her features as she strode across the room and opened the doors to let the servants rush back in.

They pushed him behind an ebony screen inlaid with mother-of-pearl stars in such a way that it resembled a night sky. In a few moments, he was dressed in a clean tunic and trousers, soft leather boots, and a gray coat. With rising relief, he realized it was just a clean version of his army uniform. There was even a cartographer's patch showing a compass rose on the right sleeve. His shoulders relaxed, and he shifted a bit. Honestly, this was more comfortable to him than the Grisha robes.

"Not what you expected?" Ashido asked with amusement, handing him a small plate of assorted fruits and pastries, as well as a small piece of what looked like some sort of smoked fish.

Izuku accepted the plate with a smile. "Ah—thank you, but I just thought…" What had he thought? That the second he got here they would shove him into ranks and force him to become the said 'Savior Of Ravka'?

"The King expects to see a humble boy plucked from the ranks of his army, an undiscovered treasure. If you appear in a kefta, he'll think the Darkling's been hiding you."

"Why the the Darkling be hiding me?"

Ashiso shrugged. "For leverage. For profit. Who knows? But the King… well you'll see what the King is."

Izuku's stomach turned, even as he bit into the pastries. He was about to be presented to the King. he tried to steady himself, but as Ashido hurried him out the door and down the hall, his legs felt leaden and shaky.

Near the bottom of the stairs, she whispered, "If anyone asks, I just helped you get dressed. I'm not supposed to work on Grisha."

"Why not?"

"Because the ridiculous King and his more ridiculous court think it's not fair. Feel free to talk to the Queen, though. She's the only somewhat decent one around there."

Izuku gaped at her. Insulting the King could be punished by so much as death, yet again Ashido seemed unconcerned.

When they entered the huge domed hall, it was crowded with Grisha in robes of crimson, glimmering amber, and darkest blue. Most of them looked to be around Izuku's age, but a few older Grisha were gathered in a corner. Despite the silver in their hair and their lined faces, they were strikingly attractive. In fact, everyone in the room was unnervingly good-looking.

And Izuku was realy, really gay.

"The King might have a point," he whispered, pretending the sudden lump in his throat was from nerves.

"Oh, this isn't my handiwork," Ashido dismissed.

Izuku felt the knot in his stomach tighten. If She was telling the truth, then this was just further evidence that he didn't belong here.

Someone must have seen them enter the hall, for a hush fell over the crowd as every eye in the room fastened onto Izuku, taking in his wide, liquid crystal eyes and splatter of golden freckles.

A tall, broad-chested Grisha with spiked up, crimson hair that matched his robes came forward. He bowed deeply, uniquely pointed teeth bared in a warm smile. "I am Eijiro Kirishima," he greeted, voice low and pleasant.

"Ah—" Izuku hurriedly bowed back to him. "I'm Izuku Midoriya."

Eijiro's smile widened. "The Sun Summoner," he breathed, studying Izuku's face. "You're real."

Ashido rolled her eyes. "Kiri, stop scaring him."

The Corporalnik gasped, mock offense playing on his face. "Why do you always make fun of my teeth! They aren't that weird!"

"_Sure_, hun. Keep tellin' yourself that."

"Hey!" Laughed Eijiro before turning once again to Izuku. "Come, let me introduce you, Sun Summoner. You'll be walking with us." He took Izuku's elbow and began to lightly steer him toward a group of Corporalki.

"He's a Summoner, Eijiro," said a girl in a blue kefta with flowing black hair pulled back in a ponytail. "He walks with us." There were murmurs of assent from the other Etherealki behind her.

"Momo," said another Corporalki with an insincere smile, "you can't possibly be suggesting that he enter the hall as a lower-order Grisha."

Eijiro frowned, whispering something that almost sounded like, "That's not very manly," as Momo raised a single perfect eyebrow and several Summoners got to their feet. "Need I remind you that the Darkling himself is a Summoner?"

"So you're ranking yourself with the Darkling now?"

Momo's glare sharpened, seeming to grind her teeth, and in an attempt to make peace, Izuku interjected, "Why don't I just go with Mina?"

There were a few low snickers.

"With the Tailor?" some laughed.

Izuku glanced at Mina in confusion, who simply smiled sadly and shook her head.

"He belongs with us," a Etherealki protested, and argument broke out all around them.

"He'll walk with me," said a low voice, and the room went silent.


	13. The King

The King

Izuku whirled around in time to see the Darkling standing in an archway, flanked by Ivan and several other Grisha whom he recognized from the journey. With a smile, he noted that Tōru stood awkwardly with them. The Darkling surveyed the crowd and said, voice sharp and clear, "We are expected."

Instantly, the room bustled with activity as the Grisha rose and began to file through the large double doors that led outside. They arranged themselves two abreast in a long line. First the Materialki, then the Etherealki, and finally the Corporalki, so that the highest-ranked Grisha would be enter the throne room last.

Unsure of what to do, Izuku shifted nervously, staying where he was while watching the crowd. He looked around for Mina, thinking her pink exterior would have made her easy to spot, but she seemed to have disappeared. A moment later, the Darkling was beside him. Izuku glanced at his profile, the sharp jaw, the glinting amethyst eyes.

"You look well rested," the Grisha said, amusement coloring his tone.

Izuku licked his plump lips, well aware of what he looked like before Mina "worked on him" but he still wasn't completely comfortable with it. And yet, standing in a room full of beautiful Grisha, he had to admit he was grateful for it. He still didn't feel like he looked like he belonged, but he would have stuck out much worse without the woman's help.

"Are there other Tailors?" he couldn't help but ask. He hadn't exactly heard of any type of Grisha like that before.

"Mina is unique," the Darkling answered, glancing at him. "Like us."

He ignored the pang in his chest at the word us and instead focused on how his new friend was nowhere to be seen. "Why isn't she walking with the rest of the Grisha, then?"

"Mina must attend to the Queen."

"...Why?"

"When Mina's abilities began to show themselves, I could have had her choose between becoming a Fabrikator or a Corporalnik. Instead, I cultivated her particular affinity and made a gift of her to the Queen."

Izuku couldn't help but bristle slightly at his words. "A gift? So Mina is no better than a serf? And why would you need to give a gift to the Queen, anyways? Aren't you more powerful than anyone here?"

"We all serve someone," the Darkling replied, a dark edge to his tone. Then, he added in a lighter voice tipped with laugher, "And I didn't ask for your compliments, though they are greatly appreciated."

The smaller boy flushed. "I—"

"Shhh, let me enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"Hey!"

The Darkling chuckled, a deep sound in the back of his throat, and Izuku totally did not blush a very deep red at the sound, no sir.

They fell into a comfortable silence, walking at a slow pace behind the Corporalki.

"The King will expect a demonstration," the Darkling informed him suddenly.

Izuku felt as if he'd been dunked in ice water, velvet green eyes widening and breath sputtering in his chest. "But I don't know how to—"

"I don't expect you to," the taller said calmly, those steady amparo eyes following the last crimson-robed Corporalki as they disappeared through the door. They quickly followed, pace exaggerated by the difference in attire.

They emerged onto the gravel path and into the last of the afternoon sunshine. Izuku was finding it hard to breathe again, the sent of dread heavy in the air. He almost felt as though he was walking to his execution, being lead on a red carpet by a black-robed stranger.

"I don't know if I can do this," he whispered anxiously. "I don't know what the King thinks I can do, but I can't do it. He can't possibly expect you to throw me out there and for me to just… make things happen."

"I… hope you don't expect fairness from me, Izuku. It isn't one of my specialties."

Izuku stared at him, scattered freckles stark against his whitening face. "What?" he squeaked.

The Darkling glanced down at him, and Izuku was once again reminded that this man could kill every single person in the castle with ease, should he choose to. "Do you really believe I brought you all this way to make a fool out of you? Out of both of us?"

"Yes?"

The Darkling raised a brow.

"...No?"

"Good answer."

"Plus," the Darkling added as they made their way through the dark wooded tunnel of branches. "It's completely out of your hands now, isn't it?"

"...Are you going to cut me again?" Izuku asked warily.

One corner of the man's lips twitched. "I doubt I'll have to, to be honest, but it all depends on you."

Izuku was not reassured.

He tried to calm the humming-bird pace of his heart, taking slow breaths like him and Katsuki had practiced so many times before, but before he knew it they had made their way through the grounds and were climbing the white marble steps to the Grand Palace.

As they moved through a spacious entry hall into a long corridor lined with mirrors and ornamented in gold, Izuku couldn't help but notice how different the place was from the Little Palace. Everywhere he looked, he saw marble and gold, soaring walls of white and palest blue, gleaming chandeliers, liveried footmen, polished parquet floors laid out in elaborate geometric designs. It wasn't without beauty, no, Izuku marveled at so much wealth laid out for everyone to see in one place, but there was something almost… exhausting about the extravagance of it all.

He'd always assumed that Ravka's hungry peasants and poorly supplied soldiers were the result of the Shadow Fold, but as they walked by a tree of jade embellished with diamond leaves, he wasn't so sure.

The throne room had to be at least three stories high, every window sparkling with fold double eagles. A long, pale blue carpet ran the length of the room to where the members of the court milled about a raised throne. Many of the men wore military dress, black trousers and white coats laden with medals and ribbons. The women sparkled in gown of liquid silk with little puffed sleeves and low necklines. Flanking the carpeted aisle, the Grisha stood arranged in their seperate orders.

A hush fell as every face turned to him and the Darkling. Izuku felt his shoulders tense as they walked slowly toward the golden throne. As they drew closer, the King's glare seemed to only sharpen.

He looked to be in about his forties, slender yet square-shouldered, like he was trying to look strong without actually being it, with piercing blue eyes and red-framed mouth caught in a permanent sneer. His receding hairline was covered with a thick mane of fiery red hair. He wore full military dress, a thin sword at his side, his imposing chest covered with medals.

Beside him on the Raised dais stood a man with bloodshot red eyes and wisps of blue-gray hair peeking out of his priest's hooded robes. A gold double eagle was emblazoned on his chest.

The Darkling gave Izuku's arm a gentle squeeze to warn him they were stopping.

"Your highness, _moi tsar_," he said in clear tones. "Izuku Midoriya, the Sun Summoner." A rush of murmurs fled down the crowd. Izuku wasn't sure if he should bow or curtsy. Midnight had insisted that all the orphans know how to greet the Duke's few noble guests, but somehow, it didn't feel quite right to curtsy in army-issue trousers.

Wait… he was seen as a boy here…

Ultimately, the King saved him from making a blunder when he waved them forward impatiently. "Well, what are you waiting for? Bring him to me."

The Darkling and him walked to the base of the dais.

The King scrutinized Izuku. He frowned, that glare sharpening even more and focusing on the Darkling for an explanation. "He's very… plain."

Izuku couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed. All he felt was heart-crushing terror when graced with that blue-fire gaze.

"Show me," the King commanded.

Izuku stomach clenched. He looked at the Darkling, taking in those familiar eyebags and messy lilac locks. This was it. The taller nodded at him and spread his arms wide. A tense silence descended as his hands filled with dark, swirling ribbons of blackness that bled into the air. He brought his hands together with a resounding crack. Nervous cries burst from the crowd as darkness blanketed the room.

This time, Izuku was better prepared for the dark that engulfed him, but it was still frightening. Instinctively, he reached forward, searching for something to hold on to. The Darkling caught his arm and his bare hand slid into Izuku's. The boy felt that same powerful certainty wash through him and then the Darkling's call, pure and compelling, demanding an answer.

With a mixture of panic and relief, he felt something rising up inside him. This time, though, he didn't try to fight it. He let it have it's way.

Golden light flooded the throne room, drenching them in warmth and shattering the darkness like black glass. The court erupted into applause. People were weeping and hugging one another. A woman fainted. Even the King was clapping, though the smile on his face was just twisted enough that Izuku felt a shiver thrill up his spine.

The Darkling's cold touch slid away from his and the light faded.

"Brilliant!" the King thundered. "A… miracle!" He descended the steps of the dais, the hooded priest gliding silently down behind him, and took Izuku's hand in his own, raising it to his cry lips. "My boy," he said, tone oily and sly. "My dear, dear boy." Izuku thought of what Mina had said about the King's attention and felt his skin crawl, but he didn't dare pull his hand away. Soon, though, he had relinquished the small boy and was reluctantly clapping the Darkling on the back.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful…" he effused. "Come, we must make plans immediately."

As the King and the Darkling stepped away to talk, the priest drifted forward. "A miracle indeed," he said, staring at Izuku with disturbing intensity. His eyes were crimson—close to Katsuki's, but they were far too bloodshot and almost crazed to be even close to his childhood friend's. He smelled faintly of mildew and incense. Like a tomb, Izuku thought with a shiver. He was grateful when the man slithered away, and then instantly felt guilty for it.

He was quickly surrounded by beautifully dressed men and women, all wishing to make his acquaintance and to touch his hand or sleeve. They crowded on every side of him, jostling and pushing to get closer. Just as he felt a fresh wave of panic setting in, Mina appeared by his side. But his relief was short-lived.

"The Queen wants to meet you," she murmured into his ear. She steered him through the crowd and out a narrow side door into the hall, then into a small sitting room where the Queen was simply sitting on a plush chair in a circle of equally soft chair of all different variety. The carpet was a fluffy white and there was a fireplace on one of the walls.

The Queen was, least to say, beautiful. Her smooth white skin and long white hair stark against her gentle gray-brown eyes and soft smile. Her featured were delicately cold, but not in a bad way. She almost seemed to be frozen in a permanent look of tiered warmth, if that made any sense.

The strange thing was… it almost didn't seem like Mina did any work on her. She still had blemishes on her skin, tired rings under here eyes.

She was surrounded by ladies in exquisite gowns of petal pink and soft blue, their low necklines embroidered with gilded thread and tiny river pearls. And yet, they all paled in comparison to the Queen's simple, soft beauty of just a slim white dress and Mina's cream wool kefta, her bright eyes and wild hair a strange combination yet strong in the way the Queen lacked.

Izuku could see how they matched, the queen's softness muting Mina's sometimes too bright light and Mina's confidence helping the Queen to stand out more than anyone who was actively trying to.

"_Moya tsarita_," Mina said, sinking into a low, graceful curtsy. "The Sun Summoner."

Izuku lowered himself into a small (rather clumsy) bow and winced at the few titters from the ladies.

The Queen smile gently at him. "Charming," she said kindly, standing slowly. Mina's hands twitched almost as if to help her. The woman walked gracefully over to him, her small footsteps soft on the carpet. She took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't know how relieved I am to meet you."

Izuku smile back at her, face lighting up with equal relief.

Finally, someone whom he could trust in this twisted palace.

"Come, come!" the Queen said softly, ushering him to one of the soft chairs beside her. The women of the Queen's Court shifted slightly to accommodate him.

"_Moya tsaritsa_ would you like me to…." Mina trailed off.

The Queen nodded at her, and the Grisha walked over and closed the doors, locking them and placing some sort of pillow onto hinges on each of them. She nodded when the job was finished, and it seemed as if the entire room let out a breath they didn't know they had been holding.

"Oh thank Saints," groaned one of the women, reaching under one of the chairs to pull out a soft, fur-lined blanket and drape it over her shoulders. "I thought we would have to act like—excuse my Kerch—bitches forever."

The rest of the women murmured in agreement, and the Queen chuckled at Izuku confused expression.

"I would not surround myself with those I knew I could not trust willingly," she explained, her dove gray eyes crinkling at the corners.

"But we need to act like we're just simple ladies of the court so that the King lets us stay close to the Queen," another woman finished, sitting down in one of the chairs and another pulled some more bean bags and blankets from a cabinet above the fireplace.

The Queen nodded in confirmation. "Mina! Come join us, darling."

Mina smiled, smoothly sitting on the chair next to the Queen in which she was patting in indication. "I'm so glad we have a court like this, and we are so lucky to have a queen like you."

The Court murmured in agreement, and the Queen flushed. "I'm glad I can make all of you feel comfortable in this hell-hole of a castle my husband has created."

Izuku's mind was currently whirling with all of the new information so quickly he almost couldn't talk. The King was evil—the person who basically ran the entire country—not good. The Queen was one of the only people he could trust in the upside-down palace. The Queen's Court was made up of splendid actors that all seemed loyal to her—a good sign. Mina was one of them. The Darkling had held his hand to display his power. The King had at least two heirs that he knew of yet neither of them were in the throne room. The King had a priest of some sort—a very creepy one—that followed him around and stared at people.

"So," the Queen said, turning to Izuku once it seemed like everyone had settled down. "You are from a Grisha family?"

Izuku hesitated. "No, _moya tsarita_, I am not."

"A peasant, then?" the Queen asked lightly, but Izuku could see the mirth in her eyes. She knew full-well what had become of the lower-classes of the country.

Izuku nodded.

"We are so lucky in our people," she said gently, and the ladies murmured in soft assent. "Quite a few of our own are from peasant families, actually. Of course, that was before my husband decided to leech this land of all it's food and resources. Alas, we should notify your family of your… new status, as much as I hate to call it that. I can send a messenger, later if you should choose."

Izuku inhaled guiltily. He knew he shouldn't lie to royalty, but it seemed wrong to just ruin the mood like he knew his mentioning of childhood would. Stuck, he glanced at Mina. She nodded encouregly.

"Actually, your highness… I was raised in Duke Thirteen's household."

A flicker of surprise dashed through the room, and even Mina looked curious.

Yet the Queen's smokey eyes only softened with sadness. "I am so sorry, my boy. I know Thirteen personally, along with his lovely main caretaker at the orphanage, but I also know that it can not be an easy life here in Ravka. And being someone of unknown origin must make it much, much harder."

Izuku dipped his head, liquid emerald gaze sad yet accepting. He had lived with it for years, and as long as he had Katsuki by his side, he was sure he could do anything.

But Katsuki wasn't by his side now, was he?

The Queen smiled, squeezing his freckled hand again and sneaking a glance at the door. "Well, I think that's all the time we have before my husband's men start to get suspicious, but please know you have an ally in me. This all must seem so very strange to you, and I hope Min does take care of you so the life of court does not corrupt such a pure soul."

She dismissed them with a bow of her head. "And remember Sun Summoner, you can head over any time and I will try to show you what it is like to have a mother, okay?"

Izuku bowed back, rising in time with Mina. _I will not tear up, I will not tear up_, he repeated to himself as he felt a burning in his throat and eyes. "Thank you, _moya tsaritsa_," he choked.

She nodded, smile still alit on her face. "Please, just Rei when we're alone."

As Mina led him back into the hallway, he thought he heard her mutter, "That went well." But before he could decide to ask her what all of it was about, the Darkling was there, steering them down and empty corridor.

"How did you fare with the Queen?" he asked.

"I think I did well," Izuku smiled, forgetting about his appearance and speech for once in a while, and just letting himself answer truthfully. "She's really nice."

The Darkling hummed. "You look like you've been crying."

Izuku reached up and brushed his freckles, looking judgmentally at the wetness that came off onto his fingers. "I guess I have," he said, surprised.

Mina laughed. "You sound like you didn't know."

"Well I didn't!"

Mina cackled again, and the Darkling's lips quirked up into what was nearly a smile.

"Welcome to court," he said.

"Where people cry without noticing?"

"Pretty much."

Izuku huffed. "I'm not sure if I like court, then."

"No one does," the Darkling admitted. "But we all make a good show of it."

"The King seemed pleased," Izuku offered.

"The King is a child."

Izuku's mouth fell open in shock and he looked around nervously, afraid someone had overheard. These people seemed to speak treason as easily as breathing. Mina didn't look remotely disturbed by the Darkling's words.

The man must have noticed his discomfort, because he said, "But today you've made him a very happy child."

"Who was the man with the King?" Izuku asked, eager to change the subject.

"The Apparat?"

"Is he a priest?"

"Of a sort. Some say he's a fanatic. Others say he's a fraud."

"What do you say?" Izuku asked, cyan eyes glinting and unable to help his curiosity once again.

"I say he has his uses." the Darkling turned to Mina. "I think we've asked enough of Izuku for today," he said. "Take him back to his chambers and have him fitted for his kefta. He'll start instruction tomorrow."

Mina gave a little bow and laid her manicured hand on Izuku's freckled arm to lead him away, and he finally let himself deflate with relief. His power (his power, it still didn't seem real) had shown up again and kept him from making a fool of himself. He'd made it through his introduction with the King and his audience with the Queen and her court. And he was going to be given his very own Grisha's kefta!

"And Mina," the Darkling called after them, "the kefta will be black."

Mina drew a startled breath. Izuku looked over at her startled face then back at the Darkling, who was already turning to go, his lilac locks bouncing slightly.

"Wait!" he called before he was able to stop himself. The Darkling halted and turned those hyacinth eyes on him. "I… If it would be all right, I'd like to have blue robes instead. If that's be okay."

"Izuku!" exclaimed Mina, clearly horrified.

But the Darkling held up a hand to silence her. "Why?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

"I already kind of feel like I don't belong here," Izuku answered truthfully. "I think it might be easier if I weren't so… singled out, you know?"

"Are you so anxious to be like everyone else?"

"...Yes?"

The Darkling looked at him for a long moment, seeming to asses his truthfulness. Or maybe it was something else, but after a few seconds he abruptly nodded.

"As you wish," he said. "Your kefta will be blue." And without another word, he turned his back on them and disappeared down the hall.

Mina stared at Izuku, aghast.

"...What?" he asked, nervous under the pressure of her look.

"Izuku," Mina said slowly, "no other Grisha has ever been permitted to wear a Darkling's colors."

"Oh no," he whispered. "Do you think he's angry?"

"That's hardly the point! It would have been a mark of your standing, of the Darkling's esteem. It would have placed you high above all the others."

"But Mina… I don't want to be high above all the others."

Mina threw up her hands in exasperation and took Izuku by the elbow, leading him back through the palace to the main entrance. Two liveried servants opened the large golden doors for them. With a jolt, he realized they were wearing white and gold, the same color as Mina's kefta, a servant's colors. No wonder she thought he was crazy for refusing the Darkling's offer. He still couldn't find it in himself to raise his status above others simply based on the ability he was apparently born with, though.

The thought stayed with him through the long walk back across the grounds to the Little Palace. Dusk was falling, the air turning heavy and dark with the golden sky, and servants were lighting lamps that lined the gravel path. By the time they had climbed the stairs to Izuku's room, his stomach was in knots.

Izuku sat down awkwardly by his window, not knowing what to do while Mina rang for a servant, whom she sent to find a seamstress and order up a dinner tray. But before she sent them away, she turned to Izuku. "Maybe you'd prefer to wait and dine with the Grisha later tonight?" she asked.

Izuku shook his head. He was far too overwhelmed to even think about being around another crowd of people, despite how much he wanted to get to know everybody. He kind of just wanted to sleep. Forever, preflebly. "If it's allowed, I'd like to stay in here," he said.

"Are you going to eat something?"

Izuku hesitated. "I'm not hungry?"

"We both know that's a lie."

"I'm not!"

"What have you eaten today?"

Izuku paused. He… hadn't really eaten anything. "...Air?"

Mina gave him a familiar disapointed-sister look and Izuku's heart clenched.

Turning back to the servant, she said, "Dinner for two, then," and dismissed them with a smile, letting the non-bianry rush off. Mina closed the door and walked to the little dressing table, where she started straightening items on its surface: a comb, a brush, a pen, and a pot of ink. Izuku didn't recognize any of them, but someone must have brought them in his room for him.

They said living lavishly brings out who you truly are, but all Izuku had learned about himself was that he really hated when people did things for him.

"I straighten things because I can never be straight," Mina said.

Izuku choked on his spit and made a strange noise that was somewhere in between a donkey and a cat. "Same," he managed to gasp.

After a beat of comfortable silence filled with the occasional chuckle, Mina paused. "Izuku… you should understand that, when you start training tomorrow… well Corporakli don't eat with Summoners. Summoners don't dine with Fabrikators, and well…"

Izuku felt a wave of disappointment, seeing what she was implying. "If you don't want to stay for dinner, it's okay."

"No! No no no, that's not it at all!" she exclaimed. "I'm just… trying to explain how things work."

"Yeah but Mina… why do they work like that? Why can't I sit with whoever?"

The girl blew out a stumped breath. "It… IT's just kind of always been like that. Plus, it's a great honor to dine with you, and the other Grisha likely won't approve that I'm allowed to do it."

"...Why? And why are th- we following a tradition? We're humans, not animals. We can change the way we do things, can't we?"

Mina sighed, closing her varnish gold eyes. "Honey… it's just the way things are. They don't want me sitting with you as anything more than a servant because I'm seen as a member of the non-Grisha court and that's being generous. They don't see what I do as valuable. There are a lot of reasons, actually."

Izuku stayed quiet, chewing on one of his knuckles as he thought. It made sense to divide the Grisha in term of battle power and strategy, but during recreational time? It just didn't feel right. Plus, the only reason other than the fact that the Grisha might be bad people (but he refused to think that without actually meeting them first) was they had something against the King, and by extension the court. The image of the servants standing at every doorway in the Grand Palace, all of them dressed in white and gold sorted itself to the top of his mind. What must it be like for Mina, as well? Isolated from her own kind but not a true member of the court?

"It's funny," he said after a while, knuckles effectively pinkened. "I always thought being powerful and beautiful would make life so much easier."

"Oh it does," Mina laughed sadly. "It's just… It doesn't help with much more than getting favors from people. Especially when you're a servant."

The somber air was interrupted by a knock on the door, and the seamstress soon had them occupied with fittings and measurements. When she had finished, gathering up her muslin and pins, Mina whispered, "It isn't too late, you know. You could still…"

Izuku shook his head. "Blue," he said gently but firmly.

The seamstress left, and they turned their attention to dinner, Mina giving Izuku a look when he took only a small amount of food.

The food was less alien than he'd expected, the kind of food they'd eaten on feast days at Keramzin: sweet pea porridge, quail roasted in honey, and fresh figs with goat cheese and honey. He found himself being a little bit more hungry than before.

Mina maintained a steady stream of chatter as they ate, mostly Grisha gossip. Izuku, of course, had no idea who or what she was talking about, but he nodded and smiled at the amusing parts, grateful for not having to actively make conversation. When servants came again, taking their dinner dishes and quickly leaving, Izuku moved to help them, trying to stifle a yawn.

Mina rose, stopping him and leading him to the bed. "I'll come get you for breakfast in the morning. It'll take a while for you to learn your way around. The Little Palace can be a bit of a maze." Then, her perfect lips turned in a mischievous smile. "You should get all the rest you can. Tomorrow you meet Aizawa."

"Aizawa?" Izuku said murckaly.

Mina grinned wickedly. "Oh yes. He's an absolute treat."

Before he could ask what she meant. She gave him a little wave and slipped out the door. Izuku bit his lips. Exactly what… was in store for him?

As the door closed behind Mina, he felt fatigue creep over him. The thrill of knowing his power might actually be real, the excitement of meeting the King and Queen, the strange marvels of the Grand Palace and the Little Palace, the all-confusing Darkling had kept his exhaustion at bay, but it had grudgingly returned—and with it, a huge, echoing feeling of loneliness.

He undressed, hung his uniform neatly on a peg behind the star-speckled screen, and placed his shiny new boots beneath it. He then fished Katsuki's coat from under the layers of blankets in which he had hidden it, and slipped it over his shoulders, hoping for some sense of familiarity, but all he managed to bring was an intense twing rickacheing through the hole in his chest.

He changed into soft cotton pajamas, resorting to just holding onto the jacket (which totally wasn't creepy, shut up—) and rinsed his face. As he patted it dry, he caught a glimpse of himself i the glass above the basin. He frowned at his reflection. He looked… healthy. It was unnatural. Forced. Like, he was trying to fit in with the Grisha but… it wasn't real.

None of it was.

He climbed onto the high bed, slid beneath the silks and furs (feeling guilty the whole time), and blew out the lamp. Distantly, he heard a door closing, voices calling out their goodnights, the sounds of the Little Palace falling gently into the embrace of sleep. He stared into the darkness. He'd never had a room entirely to himself before. In Keramzin, he'd slept in an old portrait hall that had been converted into a dormitory, surrounded by countless other boys, Katsuki by his side. In the army, he'd slept in the barracks or tents with the other Surveyors, Katsuki somehow managing to be by his side, despite the fact that they were in different units.

Katsuki was always by his side.

His new room felt huge and empty. The silence, all the events of the day rushed in on him, and tears pricked his eyes. No one was there to comfort him, to whisper harsh yet caring things under the dim light of the moon.

No crimson-eyed, blonde-haired boys to make him feel safe.

Maybe he would wake up tomorrow and find that it had all been a dream, that Tsu was still alive and Koji wasn't missing and Katsuki was unhurt, that no one had tried to kill him, that he'd never met the King and Queen or seen the Apparat, or felt the Darkling's hand on the nape of his neck. Maybe he would wake to the smell of burning campfires, safe in his own clothes, on his own little cot, and he could tell Katsuki all about this strange and terrifying, but very beautiful dream.

He rubbed his thumb over the scar in his palm and heard Karsuki's deep, smoke-crisped voice saying, "We'll be okay, Izu. We always are."

"I hope so, Kacchan," he whispered into his pillow and let his tears carry him to sleep.


End file.
